A Christmas Present for Arnold
by paleMistress
Summary: My Christmas Fic! A Month before Christmas, Helga does something to Arnold he can't Forgive, and now she's off to find him the gift she KNOWS he wants! That's all I'm giving you, READ! ^_~ R&R Please! ~Chapter Three is UP!~ (finally!)
1. Evil Mistakes and Angelic Plans

Hi Everyone!!! I'm Ba----ck! MY CHRISTMAS STORY!!! It's here! I'm so exicited! I've got two christmas  
stories in the making, but I've decided to put this one up after a little esteem boost from a friend of mine  
(Thanks Roxy^_^!) Ok, so here's the 441: The kids are in Grade five now and... yeah, that's  
about it! ^_~  
So here we go! (:::wishes::: Please don't hate it!)  
Disclaimer~ «¢ ¤ § M î ¢ D ® £ Å m ê ®» doesn't own Hey Arnold! (ohhh...look at the funky writin')  
  
~*~A Christmas Present for Arnold~*~  
Chapter One- Evil Mistakes and Angelic Plans  
  
"I'll never forgive you."  
The words rang through my ears and make my body stiffen horribly. I can't breathe.  
"I can't believe you'd expect me to." he continues,  
"I don--"  
"You don't get it, do you, Helga?!" he inturuputs, his voice painful, stinging into my mind, "You just go around  
stupidly thinking that everyone else's as heartless...as thick-skinned, as UNFEELING as you are! Did you  
think I wouldn't care?! Did you think I would just ignore it?!" his face flushes an angry shade of red. I  
shake my head in dismay. I feel the begining of tears, but I push the thought of crying aside. Not here, not with  
his piercing green eyes burning holes into me hatefully. Snow falls on my eyelashes as I wait for his next words.  
"I thought you were at least human." he chokes out, "I thought you could at least figure out that it hurts for  
a person to be without...parents."   
My eyes widen with smypathy and I try to reach out and touch him.  
"Arnold--" I whisper guiltily.  
He backs away from me like I have The Plague  
"Don't!" he begins "Touch me! Don't look at me and don't talk to me! I don't ever want to be anywhere near  
you again!" he concludes, and starts making his way out of the alley.  
He suddenly stops and turns around to me,  
"I'd appriciate it if you'd pretend you didn't know me," he orders, "because that's how I plan to treat you."  
And with that, Arnold is gone. Out of the alley and out of my life. I drop to my knees, because I'm no longer  
able to hold my weight up, and start to cry.  
"Please...Please...I'm so sorry." I beg to the ground. As my tears fall onto the muddy snow, I think back to  
what started this all...  
  
It was all my fault, of that much I'm sure. I have no illusions of innocense, and I am not the victim in this twisted  
little game. I don't really know what posessed me to hide behind a wall to listen to Arnold's and Gerald's   
conversation. It was about what they wanted for Christmas, and I was interested. I didn't stay to hear what Gerald  
wanted, I couldn't care less about that. It was Arnold's wish list that made me evesdrop.  
"I'm telling you, Arnold man, this year I'm getting EXACLY what I want!" Gerald had gloated to his best  
friend, "No socks, no Hats, no dumb-looking sweaters. We're talking video-games, movies, all the new  
Purdy-Boys books, everything I asked for!"  
Arnold had smiled politely at Hair-Boy's ramblings, and I had watched my love tentivly. No, I knew him, I knew  
that smile. Something was not right in his world. And that meant the world as I knew it would fall apart.  
Thank God Gerald knew that smile too, "Hey Man, what's wrong?"  
Arnold had looked away, his averted eyes focusing on the clear late-November sky above. There was snow  
on the ground already, and my Blonde-Haired Darling kicked some of the powdery-white blanket  
away with his booted foot.  
"Nothing, I was just thinking..." his voice fades.  
"About what? You got something special in mind for Christmas?" Gerald had nudged Arnold when he'd said this.  
Arnold had ignored it and sighed, "Yeah."  
By now Gerald knew this was serious. Arnold was not Happy. And if Arnold isn't happy, then no one else is   
allowed to be anywhere near satisfied. That's just the way it works around here.  
"It's just that, at Christmas time, kids are supposed to have thier parents." Arnold had blurted out, and had  
looked immediatly sorry for doing so.  
Gerald had smirked sadly and put a hand on Arnold's shoulder, "I'm really sorry, Arnold."  
He waved his hand dismissivly, "No, It's alright, it's not your fault." and that ended it. They had walked away.  
It was then that I had heard that sickeningly stuck-up voice say in it's sing-song way,  
"Why HELGA! Were you listening in on Arnold?" I remember wincing at that statement. Rhonda. Just the person  
I didn't want to see me here. I needed her like I needed a knife in the back.  
"No...No!" I was all I got out of my mouth before she had cut in,  
"Yes, you were! Hmm...I wonder why?" She had smirked evily at this. I couldn't have gotten my body to stop  
shaking if I had had all the time in the world,  
"Could you perhaps have a bit of a ...crush, on him?" I could almost see her lick her lips with the prospect of some  
of the juiciest gossip she'd come across in her life. My eyes widened and swung around the PS 118 schoolyard,  
"Are...are you serious?!" the words had come out weak and unsure. Rhonda knew a dying victim when she saw   
one, so she had taken her pounce,  
"I'm right! Arn't I? You've gotta THING for Arnold!" she had cakled maliciously, "Oh, wait 'till everyone hear's this!"  
I can't account for what came out of my mouth next. It was away of saving myself from the fire. I didn't  
even hear the forbidden, unholy words... until it was too late,  
"Oh please, Princess! CRIMINEY! Why would I EVER like some stupid Orphan?! The kid only has his looney  
Granparents! Ha! Arnoldo's Mom and Dad probably left because they could stand the little yellow-haired shrimp!  
Probably the Mistake they ran away from! And I don't blame 'em!"  
It was then I had realized that Rhonda wasn't looking at me. She was looking off to the side where I had stood. When  
I looked over, I had felt the blood drain from my face and my whole body go helplessly cold,  
"Arnold!" was what I had heard myself say, but that one word, said in complete anguish, did not validate all the  
others said in tormented contempt. He had glared at me in greif, and had run away. And I had chased after him,  
Leaving Rhonda alone in the snow, wondering if we would miss the bus home, and where I was chasing him to.  
  
It turned out that I had chased him to one of the allies near his house. I had begged for him to forgive me, and now  
here I am, a shattered remnent of my former self. Salt-drops of liquid pain drip easily down my cheeks, freezing  
in the chilled air by the time they run down my neck. No, this isn't true! This isn't right! This is some horrid nightmare!  
"I didn't mean it...I didn't mean it..." I sob as I shut my eyes tightly. I had just done it. I had just destroyed any  
bond I held to my only Love. I gulp in air franticly, tearing my hands through my mangled, stringy hair. My nails  
dug into the back of my neck and I cried out in pain, falling forwards. I'm able to have my palms land on the   
ground before I collapse totally, keeping my upper body unharmed. I look up to the sky cowardly,  
"Why did it happen this way?," I whisper pathedicly to whatever higher power kept itself up there. I knew the  
answer, of course. It was me, it was always me. Foolish pride! How dare it overcome me! How could  
I push away thet one I love the most?  
I whimpered childishly and and pushed myself up from my hands,  
"No...No..I have to do something..." I murmur. I look at the palms of my hands, scraped and bleeding, skin  
coloured brown from the mud and flaking off. My un-gloved hands dried and cracked in the winter-like air, and  
the knuckles are a raw shade of frostbitten red. I wipe my tears away roughly, unable to move the joints in my fingers,  
and begin to run home. What am I going to do? I have to make it up to him. I have to show Arnold how sorry I   
Truly am. I'd sell my soul if it'd mean he could know the remorse I feel at this very moment. But I can't buy his   
mercy, just as I can't buy his favor. But what power do I have? I'm just an ugly ten-year-old nothing.  
Without warning, my feet skid on a patch of black ice and I'm sent flying into the warm coat of a stranger,  
"Oh!" the young woman's voice exclaimed. I shake my head a little from where I've landed,  
"Sorry, Miss, are you okay?" the words come out of my before my concious mind has the chance to put any  
kind of sharpness on them. I look at the girl with her long, straight blonde hair and smoky grey eyes. She gets up  
and holds out a hand to me, which I didn't accept, but instead forced myself up for the second time today.  
"Yes, I'm fine, honey..." she looks me over and gasps, "But look at you! Oh, you're hurt!"  
""I'm fine, don't worry." I say hurriedly and start off in the direction of my house,  
"You ok to get home, Suge?" she calls after me, using the word 'Suge' as a texian kind of slang for 'Sugar'.  
"Yeah!" I yell back, I sprint off again.  
"Well, be carful!" is the last faint words I hear from the kind girl. I stop after a few more minutes of running to  
catch my breath. I look up to the steely, darkening sky.  
Okay, I've never been religious, Mirium and Bob never got it in me, but this is to whoever's up there:  
Send me a sign! If you are there, and you do care, tell me what to do! Rest assured It'll be done! You must  
know by now that I'd do anything for him!  
"Take a plane!" a syrupy voice annouces from behind me. I jump and turn around, looking for the bearer of  
the commercialized voice. I see that I'm standing behind an electronics shop, one with all those T.V's playing  
in the window. It's playing an ad for some sort of air service right now, and I find myself unable to turn away,  
"That's right, plane travel is fast, easy, convient and affordable." the voice drones on,  
"You can travel all around the world in your own private jet! Visit exotic places, relax with cultural hoildays,  
even reunite your family for the Christmas Season!"  
Did I just hear what I thought I heard?  
"Yes, that's right! Go find your family this Christmas! Be with the loved ones you've missed the most! Private  
airline travel will open you to these options and more, for an incredibly low price!"  
My mouth drops open as the sight of a private jet taking off engulfs all the screens at once.   
Now, how's that for a Sign?  
"Be sure to be with your family this year...Rent private Air travel." the thick voice finishes.  
I don't need anymore encouragement! I dash off, almost home. I know what to do! Bob had taken private  
jets before, when he had to get to some big communication meetings in another country. I'll talk him into it! I have to!  
I'm going to find Arnold's Parents!  
I don't know much about what happened to them, all I've heard have been rumours. But I know they're not dead.  
They were explorers who disapered when Arnold was only little. My poor Arnold...  
Get over it, Pataki, you're on a mission!  
I'll find out where they are, somehow, and bring them back to him! But I'd have to hurry. Christmas  
is a month away, and I want my present to be special! Better then the snowboots last year, I'm going to  
give Arnold a family!  
I burst through the door and run into the living room, where Bob sits in the glow of his precious TV. I don't  
even bother taking my boots off. He looks at me in disbelief,  
"CHRIST OLGA! What're you doing?!" He yells as I block his veiw of The Game.  
"I need a private jet." I state breathlessly. There, that was simple.  
He stared at me blankly.  
And kept staring...  
and staring...  
"HAVE YOU GONE NUTS?!" he booms.  
I grin distractedly and shake my head, "No, let me explian."  
"You'd better." Bob retorts, surprisingly calm now.  
I crack my knuckles and begin, "You see... and need to find a present for a friend."  
"That Chinese girl?" he cut in boldly,  
I glare at him, "Her name's Phoebe and she's JAPANESE. And no, it's not her."  
He pushes his back away from the chair and turns off the TV. My eyes shoot up. Well, this was a first.  
"And I don't want you thinking it's just ANY gift."  
he grunted for me to go on.  
"...It's nothing you can buy at a store. I mean, it's human."  
Now it's was Bob's turn for his eyes to pop. And how.  
"It's...They're...people a friend of mine hasn't seen in a very long time. And I want to find them for my...friend"  
There, I managed to do that with the least amount of stammaring possible.  
Bob rubs his chin thoughtfully, "This is about that Orphan boy, isn't it?"  
I blink in awe. Well, whadda'ya know, he's been paying attention.  
"Yes." I admit.  
"Then the answer's no."  
My hand curls into a fist and my face hardens into a scowl, "What?" I say.  
"No, Olga, you're not going anywhere." he decree's simply. My anger rises and my teeth clench together  
in distaste, "IT'S HELGA, DAMMIT!" I find myself shouting.  
He gets off the couch, "Hold on there, little missy! I'm still you're father and I am NOT letting you leave the country  
all alone for some no-parent brat!"  
I growl, "You've never cared about what I do or where I go before! Why Start now, Bob?!"  
And my father can only remain there, struck speechless,  
I go on without heeding his statue-like state, "You don't know Arnold! He's the kindest boy in the WORLD! He's  
helped me...he's helped everybody so much, and all he wants is his parents back! It's not his fault they went  
away. He shouldn't have to live his life, wondering where they are, if they're alive! I just want to give him what  
everyone should have! I want to give him a Mom and a Dad! He deseves it, He deserves it so much..."  
I feel tears coming again and I turn away from Bob. A Pataki should never be seen crying,  
"If you love me, Dad." I tell him, my voice hushed and breaking, "If you've ever cared about me, for even a   
second, you'll let me do this. I NEED to do this. I know you can't understand, but you'll just have to trust  
me when I say I know what I'm doing."  
The room was absolutly silent for a moment. Nothing could be heard. Not even Mom from upstairs in the  
master bedroom, if she's even there. Then, as if on some divine cue, Dad sighed and walked out of the room.  
I turned around, my eyes losing their teariness. Well, that was it. I had lost. To think I had ever thought I could've   
won. I'm a complete idiot. Bob, letting me travel around the world, searching for an impossible goal. Please,  
as if he'd dish out the money me. For Olga, diffenitly, but not for me.  
Well, to whoever's up there, I just want to tell you that your 'sign' is crap.  
Suddenly, Bob re-enters. A thick, black leather address book is in his hand, and he sit's on the couch, leafing  
though the pages without a word to me. A wave of dread washes over me. Who's he calling? Please don't let  
it be some Mental Hospital!  
"I'm calling the Pilate who flew me every time I went Privatly." he says, like he could read my mind.  
I nearly fell on the floor. You're kidding, no way. A PRIVATE PILATE! But that can only mean...  
"Her name's Rowenna Stevens. She's in town now. She'll take care of you while you're on your trip,  
God knows she's one of the few people I trust." He finds the desired number and heads to the phone,  
"Dad, I--"  
He holds up his hand to me and starts dialing. We both wait wordlessly for her to pick up,  
"Yeah Rowenna? It's Bob Pataki. You know, the Beeper Guy?" I almost laughed when I heard him greet  
the girl like this. I'd never heard him call himself 'The Beeper Guy'! 'Beeper King' yes, but never Guy!  
"Look, are you booked from the next month or so, Stevens?" I held my breath and prepared for the worst.  
"No? Well then, I've gotta job for you." To my surprise, I start giggling with happiness. And to even more  
of my amazment, Bob looks and me with a...fatherly smile.  
"I want you to fly my daugther anywhere she wants to go, for as long as she wants...No, not Olga, my  
second Daughter, Helga Geraldine Pataki." I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from choking in  
unbelief. I didn't know He even KNEW my middle name!  
"No..No this is not some stupid present! She wants to find her friend's Parents. They disappered a long time   
ago and...yeah, it was that story on the news back then...of course she can do it, she's a Pataki, ain't she?!"  
I felt a warm family pride course through my viens,  
"Yeah, so anyways she wants it to be her Christmas present to the kid so do you think...you can be here in  
ten minutes?...Yeah, that'd be perfect...What do you mean 'No Charge'?...hey, if you don't wanna charge me,  
I'm not gonna complain...Rowenna, you gotta learn the difference between living with Christmas Spirit and  
Making a profit...Alright, see you in ten, you still remember where the place is?...I'll get her ready then, Bye."  
He hangs up the phone and smiles at me triumphently,  
I look at him skepticly, "How does she know where we live?"  
"She drives the limos for her customer's to take them to the airport. She's driven me a couple times." he explains.  
"Oh, I--"  
"I never want you to think I don't...care about you, Helga. You're my daughter, and I...Know I can trust you, ok?"  
I smile up at him. That took a lot for him to say, his not usually the expressive type,  
"Ok...Daddy." Woah, did I just say 'Daddy'? Boy am I getting caught up in the moment!  
I see Dad beam proudly for a moent, before covering it up with a cough,  
"Yeah well, You'd better go...you know, pack."   
"Uh-Huh... Oh, and Dad?"  
"Yeah?"  
I go over and hug him quickly. It wasn't half as ackward as I thought it would be.  
"Thanks, I'll never forget this." I say before bounding up the stairs. I cleaned myself up quickly and got to packing.  
Just as I had started packing my shampoo and other bathroom, cosmetic and hair stuff, the doorbell rings.  
I almost trip getting down the stair, and fling open the door. My eyes bulge, as does hers, when I meet Rowenna,  
"YOU!" we both say at the same time. It was the girl I had crashed into on the street!  
She giggled warmly, "Well, 'magine runnin' in'ta ya' hear, Suge." she says in a Dolly Parton drawl.  
I give her an odd look. She didn't have that accent before...  
she laughed louder, "I'm just playin' with you, Suge. Come's from living in Texas half your life."  
I smiled back at her, "Oh..." I begin. I'm not going to tell her to stop calling me 'Suge'. She seem to used to it.   
Plus, surprisingly, I actually...Like it. She thinks I'm sweet. Thank God she doesn't know me!  
"How are you feeling, you look a lot better then you did when we bumped into eachother."  
"Um...Thank you, Ms. Stevens."  
Rowenna put her hand to her hips, "Lordie! Don't you go callin' me 'Miss' now! I'm not that darn old! Everyone  
calls me Row, and so should you."  
I laugh a little. Even when she doesn't mean to, she's got that southern accent!  
"Ok Row." I say obiediently, "Do you want to come in? I havn't stared packing my clothes yet..."  
She looks me over discretly, "Are all your clothes like that?" She asks.  
I look at my usually pink dress, "Yes, why?"  
"Then don't pack any clothes, we'll get you new stuff."  
I felt my anger spark slightly with this comment. What right did she have, judging what clothes I wear?... But, I  
guess she knows better. Now, I know, I know, I should be treating this woman like dirt, as I do to most strangers.  
But I want to be myself with this woman, not what I usually am. After all, I am going to be with her for a while,  
I might as well start off with her not hating me.  
Bob choses this moment to walk into the hallway,  
"Rowenna, where you said ten minutes, I didn't think you actually meant it!"  
Row smirked boyishly, "You know me, Pataki, a Texian true to her word!"  
She looks back down to me, "You got your personals ready, Suge?"  
I nod.  
"Well then, go up and get them!" and I do so.   
When I come back down, duffel-bag in hand, Bob's talking to Row, and he faces me, uncertainly,  
"I...uh, have a few things for you."  
I look at Row questioningly and she smiles back prettily, mouthing the words 'Go Ahead'.  
"What?" I ask.  
The first thing he hands me is a Bank Card and about three hundred dollars worth of cash,  
"That's to my own personal account, not even Olga knows about it."  
I look up at him wonderingly. Me know something Olga doesn't ? I'm begining to feel dizzy. This is  
all a bit to strange, too unreal. It's all moving very quickly.  
"Don't be overwhelmed." Row bent down and whispers in my ear. Great, another mind-reader.  
Bob takes out a pen and writes a number on my hand, "That's the code, there should be enough money to  
get you around the world, since Rowenna's offered to make it a free trip for...what did you call her, Rowenna?"  
She smiles widely, "A Christmas Angel with a Miracle to make Happen!" she declares. I feel my face Flush, and  
Dad smiles with Fatherly joy. Next, he hand's me the piece of paper with the names of Forign Coutries on it.  
"That kid Arnold's parents used to be on the news somtimes, before they settled down. These were some of  
the places they helped. You never know, they might know where they are."  
Funny, this is the first time Bob's ever remembered Arnold's name. But one thing's still bothering me.  
"Dad, where's Mom? Is she in her room?"  
He looks around nervously, "Well, no, she went to... the store." that's out little way of saying the Liquor Shop  
"But I'll explain what's happened...Christ, I don't know how I'll explain, but I'll think of something."  
He chuckled, a little anxiously, and turned to Rowenna,  
"So, I guess you'll be going..."  
"You got it, Bob, Gotta get on Ol' Lady while the getting's good."  
I looked up at her, " 'Old Lady'?" I ask quizicly,  
she grinned, "My plane, I named her after my dog back in Houston."  
I smile and bite my lip to keep from going into hystarics, hauling my pink duffel-bag that held my 'personals' up  
to my shoulder. Row opened the door and we both stepped out at the same time, but I turn back to my Dad,  
"I'll never be able to thank you enough for letting me do this." I say to him, cold night air whipping hair in my face.  
He puts his hands through his own hair, "To be honest, I don't know why I'm letting you do this, I must be crazy."  
"Maybe it because you trust me." I try.  
He looks at me and shakes his head knowingly,  
Maybe, it's because I don't like to see my girl unhappy." he returns.  
I feel a weak smile curve on my lips and look at him. Something strange happened in that moment, I can't explain  
it. One of those father-daughter moments that the kids tell THEIR grandkids when they're gnarled and aged. I saw  
him, Big Bob Pataki, the man I could usually barely put up with, take the stand as Father of the Year.   
And I was eternally grateful, to MY father.  
"Goodbye, Dad."  
"Bye, Helga."  
Row guides me to the car, and helps me in the back.  
"Door Close." she says, and automaticly, the door shuts. Wow, that's something you don't see everyday, or won't  
for a couple more years, at least. She takes her place in the drivers seat, and we drive away, Bob still watching us  
from the door, waving to me.  
When we're out of sight, I sit back in the leather seat and drift into thought.   
Arnold, I know you can't hear me, but I'll find them for you. I'll find them and I'll bring them here, to you. Even if  
you don't want me near anymore, I'm going to do this, just because I love you.  
"How far to the airport, Row?" I ask her,  
"'Bout half an houre more, Suge, you know where you wanna go yet?"  
"Yeah, we're going to..." I take a look at the sheet Dad gave me and picked the first name I saw,   
"India, We're going to India. Bangalore, India."  
Row didn't even flinch, "You're the boss, Suge. Try to rest up now, though, the jet-lag'll kill you."  
I rest my head back on the seat and watch the outdoor Christmas decorations speed past me out the window.  
"I have a goal, Row." I tell her dreamily, "Bring Arnold his Parents for Christmas."  
she chortles happily, "It's a good goal." she says, and then sighs,  
"What?" I question,  
I can feel her smile, "To think I'd end up working for a Christmas Angel."  
I smile softly, and focus back on the window.  
I don't expect you to forgive me, Arnold...but I want you to be happy.  
  
~*~End of Chapter One~*~  
Whoa-Oh was that long! So, what do you people out there in fanfic-land think? A little to far fecthed? Not to  
great, could be better? Well I wanna hear from everyone! If nobody likes this, then I'll delete it and post my  
other Christmas story (in hopes that it won't get flamed)  
Chapter Two'll be coming soon!  
Now...you all know my goodbye drill...say it with me now!  
Wishin' u...  
Love  
Life  
Luck  
n' Lafta'  
~*~CD~*~ 


	2. Half a World Away, The Meeting with Sulm...

Ah! Chapter Two! I don't know HOW I'm gonna get this finnished BEFORE Christmas,  
But...I'll give it my best shot!  
Disclaimer-I'm poor and I can't even draw stick people right. Guess what I'm trying to tell you? ^o^  
  
~*~A Christmas Present for Arnold~*~  
Chapter Two- Half a World Away, The Meeting with Sulmon  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
She hadn't been at school for four days, exactly.  
Not that I care. The girl means nothing to me. Helga G. Pataki, the meanest girl in fifth grade. Heck, the school  
was a better place without her. Did I mention no one's seen her, either? Not even Phoebe. She tried to call,  
I remember hearing her tell Rhonda, but Mr. Pataki just hung up on her. Still, it doesn't matter to me.   
Why would I care what Helga does? After all, I'm just a 'stupid Orphan' to her. Someone who's parents  
left them. I still can't believe she said those things. I mean, I know Helga doesn't like me that much most  
of the time, but I thought that she'd at least know to show a little consideration...a little compassion.  
I'm pretty sure that I was the last person to see her before she disapeared. And I mean that literally.  
No one's seen her around the neighbourhood, and she hasn't spoken to anyone. What? is she trying to make  
me feel bad? Does she think that by pretending she's not well enough to come to school, she'll get my pity?!  
I'll never pity Helga, she has life too good.   
"Hey Shortman! You coming down?! You're Grandma made...something that looks like Waffels!" Grandpa  
shouts to me for downstairs. I look around the room, checking the clock. Great! I've spaced out again! I'm  
going to be late! Why has this been happening so often lately?  
Well, not LATELY...more like the past four days...  
I'm not going to think about it.  
I rush downstairs and quickly explain to Grandma that I don't have time to eat, and make a break for the  
door, running to the Bus stop and just barely catching it. I stumble up the stairs, more then a little winded  
and flopped down in a seat with Gerald,  
I can't control the words I feel comeing to my lips right now, "Helga here today?" I ask my best friend.  
He looks at me oddly, "Nope, still no sign of that girl, man." he informs, then adds, "Why do you care?"  
I had already told Gerald everything that had conspired that day. After all, he hadn't been there with me. I had gone  
back to get my backpack, forgotten in the snow, alone when I heard Helga talking to Rhonda. I had run,  
I admit that. I didn't know what else to do. I can't explain, it's not like I should be hurt as much as I am. Helga  
was just being Helga. The Devil in a Pink Dress I've grown up with. But, when I heard what she was saying about  
me, it just...I don't know, it killed me. Like nothing I've ever felt before. I don't know why what she says matters so  
much to me. I don't get how she can get me so angry, and I don't have a clue why she's the only one who can get   
under my skin! It bothers me, that she has this kind of power.  
"I don't know, Gerald...I really don't." I confess tiredly.  
The bus stopped again, and an awful-looking Phoebe climbed on. Gerald looks at her worriedly and gives a  
weighty sigh. Poor Phoebe, she really has been taking Helga's vanishing hard.   
"Good Morning Gerald...Arnold." Phoebe says, her voice monotone and emotionless, sitting across from us.  
"Hey Phoebe." we both say at once. Suddenly, Phoebe says the unexpected,  
"Mr. Pataki gave me an answer yesterday."  
I find myself perking up, "You mean he told you where Helga is?" I say, though it came out a little more...excited  
then I thought it would. Remember, Arnold, she's nothing but a stranger to you! You care about her as much as she   
does for you!  
"Well, yes...and no." Phoebe replies, pushing her glasses up a little.  
"What do you mean?" inquires Gerald,  
Phoebe chews on her nails, a habit I've never seen in her before,  
"You see...He told me...that she was gone."  
"Gone where?" I press on.  
"I don't know."  
"When?"  
"I'm not sure."  
"How?"  
"He didn't say."  
I take one more stab at it, "Why?" I ask.  
She shrugs.  
Gerald cuts in, "Arnold man, why are you so interested?!" he says with a hint of annoyence.  
Phoebe looks at him pointedly and Gerald turns away immediatly, switching the subject entirely,  
"So, didja' guys hear? We get to watch TV today in the morning."  
Pheobe quirks an eyebrow, "What do you mean, Gerald?" she asks slowly.  
"Oh, something about Simmons wanting to expose us to world news, I heard it from Sid, we're gonna be watching  
the morning News...so we get a whole hour off doing work!" he exclaims, and Phoebe and I both laugh softly.  
She suddenly becomes solom, and Gerald tilts his head to get a better look at her,  
"What's wrong, Phoebe?" he asks her.  
She sighs raggedly and turns her head to look out the window,  
"I wonder what Helga's doing right now..." she says, more to herself then to us.  
But maybe that's for the better, because I don't know how to answer that.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Little Lady?" I hear a voice call.  
"Little Lady?" Oh wait, they're talking to me.  
"Yes, yes, I'm here, who is it?" I call to the voice on the other side of the door to my enormous bedroom.  
"It's Roja, Little Lady. I've brought you the Saree you're to wear when you meet Sulmon." the woman replies.  
I smile, even though she can't see it, and sit up in bed, "Come in, Roja." I tell her.  
She opens the door slowly, slides herself in and shuts the immense wooden barrier as fast as possble. I look  
her over carefully. Roja's one of Aishwara's many maids, and Aishwara's the wise, elder Indian woman Row  
and I have stayed with. This was one of the more normal events to date in India, and everything else that had happened   
in the last for days was simply unbelieveable. The whole thing made my head spin to think about.  
  
Once Row had landed our plane in the high-tech Bangalore airport, was had gone in search for a place to stay.  
It was sheer luck that we met Aishwara, she had been on one of her rare trips to the huge bazaar, when she  
had spotted the two of us. The old, weather-withered woman had approached us and looked at me amusedly,  
"You have hair the colour of the Sun." she's stated, simply as a form of banter.  
Row had gaped at her and I had stammard "Yes...I do... I guess..."  
she had nodded, "That is quite a rareity here." and her old black eyes had sparkled beneath the folds of aged skin,  
"Both of you, Gold hair and light eyes. And clothes that are quite...different." she'd smiled here.  
I'd scoffed routinely, "And you speak English, which I'm guessing is also very rare."  
Row had smacked me lightly on the shoulder for being so bold.  
The old woman had just kept on smileing patiently, her maids behind her looking at us like we were an exhibit,  
"Hm..will you tell me, Little Lady, where you are going, and what you are looking for?"  
I'd gawked in awe, "Wha?! What do you...H-how do you know I 'm looking for something?"  
She'd nodded, "I can see it in your eyes. They are your downfall, Young one. They are clear, they mirror your  
true intentions. I can see a great sadness in your eyes. A great want for something. A search. I would  
like if you would tell me what it is you hunt ."  
I had looked at her doubtingly, but had at last figured, hey, I had nothing to lose. So I spoke,  
"I'm looking for information for two that were here once. They were explorers...probably very nice people.  
They were like me, American, and they were last here a very long time ago, maybe more then nine years.  
Their names are..." I had searched my head hurriedly, and finally, it had dawned on me...  
I didn't have any names!  
I had wanted to find Arnold's parents, and I hand't even stopped to realize that I DIDN'T KNOW THEIR NAMES!  
"Andrew and Gwen." the old woman's gentel voice had tugged me out of my thoughts.  
"What?"  
"The two American Lovers...Andrew and Gwen. Yes, I knew them well, they stayed with me in the time of  
the social uprising eleven years ago, when they had come to help our land. Ours was one of the last places they  
traveled to before they went back to the America's, and then dissapeard on their next trip."  
A glimmer of hope had shone for me, "Quick, what did they look like?" I had asked,  
She had thought for a moment, "Both thin, Andrew quite handsom, with the most unruly hair...only a little darker  
gold then yours, and eyes the colour of clear sky. Gwen had a mixture of red and brown in her hair, with eyes  
the colour of jade and a rather...wide, odd-shaped head."  
Well, come on! I knew that HAD to be them!  
Row had looked at me unsettledly. I suppose it could have been because of the fact that my jaw had hit the ground.  
I had turned to her, my head jerking almost painfully, "Row! That's THEM! I just know it is!"  
"How do you know, Suge?"  
"Just trust me!"  
"Why are you looking for them?" the old woman had asked then, her quiet face resevered.  
I'd looked at her, "It's a long story." I'd said.  
"There is much time in the world. Time enough to tell this tale to me."  
Her face had been silent and obstinate, and I had known she was going to hear my tale of woe, whether I  
liked it or not. I had felt my lower lip quiver as I told her,   
"You see...I'm from Seattle. I don't know if, um, Gwen and Andrew told you, but that's where they're from. That's  
where they went home to, after they had finished traveling. That's where they had their son..."  
She'd gasped and put her hands to her mouth here, "They had a son..."  
"Yes, Arnold. He's...He's one of the most kind, caring, virtous people I know. And...he hates me now."  
Row had whispered, "Oh, Suge..." sympathedicly,  
I'd waved her off, "It--it doesn't matter why he hates me anymore. Just be sure, that it was all my fault, and that  
I'm an awful person for doing what I did, saying what I said to him. But, I want him happy...does that make   
sense? So, I'm here. With Row...Rowenna Stevens, my Personal Pilot, and...well, we're traveling around  
the world...looking for Andrew and Gwen, Arnold's parents. Please, Miss, if you can tell me anything about  
them, about where they are, about who might know where they are...I need you to tell me. This is...a Christmas  
present for Arnold. He needs his family, and he can't find them himself...so I'm here instead."  
The old woman's mouth hung slighty as she realized the full depth of what was going on. She had quickly regained  
her composure in a matter of moments, though, and gave me a small bow, which nearly made me fall over from shock.  
"All very intrigueing, Little Lady. A person with a nobler cause, I have never met. Allow me to introduce myself.  
I am Aishwara Sarawatheragi, and the two women behind me are my personal maids, Roja and Arushia.  
And your name is...?"  
It was then I had made a big decision, something that I don't think many would do.   
"My name isn't important," I'd said, "It won't further my cause any by giving it out, so it's pointless to do so. Call  
me whatever you want, it doesn't matter to me."  
That's right, I didn't give them my name. I didn't want to be known for what I was doing. I want to get my information,  
and then disapear. I don't want to get credit for any of this. I don't want anyone remembering a person like me.  
Aishwara had raised and eyebrow warily, but continued anyways, "Yes...Well then, Little Lady, I should tell you,   
there is a man who knows far more then I about Andrew and Gwen. His name is Sulmon, and he is in great power  
of our small land by right of wealth. Why, aside from me, he is the richest around. Andrew and Gwen taught him  
English, as they did for me and many others around here. But...I am not certain he will see you, Little Lady."  
"What?! And just why won't he 'see me'?"  
"Well, Gwen and Andrew were his dearest friends. When they vanished, he went into--and still is in--mourning. He  
has not seen anyone but his servents for about nine years."  
I had looked from Row to Aishwara desperatly,   
"Please, can we at least try? I'm working to find them, doesn't that mean anything to him?!"  
Aishwara had looked at both of us, with the same secretive, friendly smile that usually graces her face,  
"Yes, I will send word of you to him, and we shall try. Until then, you will both stay with me. And, Little Lady,  
we shall spend our days making you presentable to see Sulmon."  
And that was it. No arguments, no questions. We traveled by car a ways to her home, all the while with me   
wondering what Aishwara ment by 'Presentable'.  
  
Well, it turns out that by Presentable, Aishwara meant to take away everyone of my Physical traits and give me  
all new ones...ok, so it isn't THAT extreme, but I still hardly recognise myself. They unbound my pigtails and  
turned my pink ribbon, by ripping it into thin strips and carfully braiding them, into an anklet. My eyebrow had  
been painsteakingly threaded and plucked into two, seperate, arched brows. Lastly, they decided that I should   
have at least one piercing, so now my ears held small, Indian Gold studs. They threw out my pink dress, and   
gave me a collection of Langa Suits, in vibrant colours that Aishwara had chosen out. Row had been given a  
closet full of suits too, but her colours were less standoutish,  
"Little Lady? Did you hear me?" Roja asks softly. I look at her at grin, shaking my head. Roja's the  
youngest of Aishwara's maids, being very timid and jumpy.   
I see her roll her eyes a bit, jokingly. Roja and I were on pretty good terms. She's the only one who hasn't asked me  
about my name again.   
"I said you'll need to put this Saree on Quickly, we need to put you're jewelery and make-up on, and we only have   
two hours before Sulmon will meet you." Ah yes, the best part of all in my little trip here. Aishwara had written  
to this Sulmon guy the second we had gotten to her house, and sent Arushia to his house to give the letter, asking her  
only to come back when she had a responce from Sulmon himself. Arushia had come back within two and a half hours,   
with a letter written on what looked something like parchment paper, from Sulmon. It had said he wanted me  
to come and visit him today, when he would tell me everything he knew about Andrew and Gwen.   
"Alright, Roja, give me a minute and I'll put this on." I say, taking the Saree, which in basicly one of the world's  
fanciest wrap-dresses, "Do you know where Row is?" I ask her,  
"She is getting ready to see you off, she, Arushia and Aishwara will join us shortly."  
"Ok." I say, getting up and going behind the elegent looking changing screen at the other end of my room. I put  
on the Fushia-coloured dress theat was beautifully embroidered with metalic pink and gold roses, with green  
vine-like stems. I come out and Present myself to Roja, who's begun to make the bed.  
"Oh, that looks marvelous..." Roja comments, "You are quite pretty, Little Lady. Though you hid it very well."  
I go over and help her with the bed without saying anything, instead looking out the window. We were not in  
Bangalore anymore. We're just outside it, in a more pure and Agricultural place. The large, bustling city  
of Bangalore had looked so much like an American city that at first I had just stood in awe. There were  
Software companies, Nightclubs, Boutiques, and countless cars and buildings. Nothing I expected. I like  
it here better. Here in the country the air was still heavy with the smell of spices, the crops grew green and lush,  
and the little children played happily with their makeshift toys.   
"The old culture of India is still strong here. And because I am so old, this is where I stay" Aishwara had told me.  
It'd made me laugh then, but I realize how right she is. This isn't a little America, like Bangalore. This is India like it was.  
Roja and I finish making the bed quickly and head downstairs to the major bathroom (or as I call it, the beauty parlour)  
where everyone else is. Aishwara is sipping on a cup of tea while Arushia and Row our trying on intracetly  
designed pieces of jewerly that had laid out on the counter,  
"Oh Suge! Will you look at this here! These are for you to WEAR, can you believe it?" Row says without looking  
up from the pinkish-gold braclet on her hand. When she did look up at me, a strange smile finds its way onto her face.  
"My dear, Suge, arn't you a sight?! You could light a flame without a match!"   
I feel my cheeks burn, but quickly push the blush down, a talent I've aqquired after years of practice.  
"Simply beautiful." Arushia smiles kindly.  
"Yes, quite pretty indeed." Aishwara comments thoughtfully before setting her tea down and motioning to a nearby chair,  
"Sit, Little Lady, it's time for painting."  
I raise one of my newly-formed eyebrows, "Painting?" I ask quizzically. I didn't know I was learning art.  
"She mean's make-up." Arushia explains.  
I reluctantly sit down and the four women gather around me.  
"Focus on her eyes." Row says bluntly, "I love her eyes."  
Aishwara nods agreeably, Then grabs some cosmetics off the table, leans over me and went to town with decorating.  
While she was doing that, Row and Roja put on the matching Jewelery that had been layed out. Roja even put on  
a thing that she called a Netripadtrum (well, at least I think that's how she said it). It was a Piece that dangled on my  
forehead prettily, and it was probably one of my favorites. I've never had people pay this much attention to me, and   
it feels sort of strange. Egdy, mostly, because I'm not sure if I like so many people standing over me at one time.  
The bracelets and necklaces weight me down uncomfortably, but I just grit my teeth. Remember, Helga, this  
is for Arnold. The stuff the Aishwara's putting on my eyes feels alien on my lids, but I guess it's just another  
abnormality I'll have to deal with. I let myself drift into thoughts. Thoughts that have consumed me so deeply  
that I feel like my own being has been devoured by the hope that one day soon I can make him whole, complete.  
"Finished." Is the next thing I can remember hearing from the world outside my mind. I open my eyes slowly,   
allowing myself to get used to the feel of heavy make-up. All four are standing in front of me now, and looking  
at me with proudly wistful smiles. Just what are they so happy about?  
"Can I see a mirror?" I ask them, and both Row and Arushia spring into action, getting me a hand mirror-from the table.  
Looking into it, I cant really describe the face I see. It has eyes that have been lined to look cat-like, and the longest,   
mascara-swept lashes. The light pink eyshadow makes the blue eyes pop, a light blush dusted across the cheeks,  
and thick, deep crimson lips. The face looks almost unrealisticly mystic.  
But it's my face.  
My lips part as I try to make works come out of my lipsticked mouth. This is amazing, how powder and coloured  
liquid can make a person look like nothing ever seen before. Somthing very....nice?  
Row's lips thin criticly, "Do you like it?"  
I look at them, nodding my head mutely in amazment. And we all stay like that, taking in me, the girl formerly  
known as Helga.  
Aishwara's eyes drift to a clock on the wall, and she gives a little cry of alarm.  
"Oh my! Look at the time! Come now, Little Lady, or you'll be late!"  
With that, we all get up, run out of the house after gathering certain nessisities, and pile into Aishwara's black limo,  
the only car around for miles. The five of us sit in the back, and Aishwara's personal driver takes the wheel. It's   
about an hour to get to Sulmon's, at least forty-five minutes to get back to Bangalore.  
"Little Lady?" Arushia says once we've been driving for about ten minutes. I look at her, and all eyes are focused on me,  
"You don't have to call me that, you know." I say. I hate being so formal. It makes me feel like I'm Rhonda.  
"Then... what am I going to call you?" she asks.  
We all sit there silently, for a minute, trying to come up with something that didn't sound like I was a princess, but wasn't  
my name. It's not like I can't tell them my name right now, but now it's gotten a bit more complicated. They've all  
been waiting this whole time to hear my name. A name like Helga. How does a name like that live up all the  
anticipation they've experienced? If it were a pretty, soft name, like Lila, their waiting would be justified. But no,  
it's just Helga. If I told them my name now, I'd feel like I'd be letting them down, somehow.  
"Call her Noël." Row says out of nowhere.  
Everyone, including me, looks at her, "What?" we chorus.  
"Noël...it means Christmas. She's the closest thing to Christmas Spirit I've seen in a long time."  
I stare at her.   
To think, some people think Texians are dumb.  
"I like it."  
"Me too."  
"Yes, very fitting." the three woman say. They say the name again, practicing the feel of it in their mouths.  
Finally, Arushia began again, "And now...Noël?" she says, smiling.  
"Yeah?" I say casually.  
"Be warned, the media will be everywhere today."  
I blink a few times, and then..."WHAT?!" Isn't that what I wanted to AVOID?!  
Arushia chews her lip uncertainly, "Well, when a man comes out of mourning for many years just to see an American  
child, it usual does cause a great interest for people." she explains.  
Okay, wait a minute, there's something here that doesn't make sense, "Who told them I'd show up?" I ask...  
actually, more like demanded  
Both Arushia and Roja now pick at their nails, "Well..." Arushia says, "We may have mentioned something to a few   
of our friends..."  
"But only a few!" Roja chimes in quickly.  
I watch as Row rolls her eyes and slumps in her seat. I cross my arms protectivly against me.  
"Fine." I sigh moodily, "I'll be careful." Not that I know how to DEAL with any form of media or anything, but I'll be carful.  
I look out the tinted window of the car determinedly.  
"We'll be there in no time." Aishwara says to no one, for no reason.  
Arnold, if this were for anyone but you...I would have given up by now.  
I sit quietly for the rest of the trip, and when we reach Sulmon's Estate...I find myself bombared with more camera's   
then I've ever seen in my life, and people shouting questions my way.   
Arnold, this is for you.  
And I begin my climb up the steps of the Mansion to Sulmon, with one step.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
"Now class, isn't this exciting?!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed, plugging in the T.V. to the front of the class,  
"We really have picked a good day for news! Our local station will be transmitting straight from India, from a   
place called Bangalore! Supposedly, some man named...um...Salmon, is going to be seen for the first time in...  
years! Just to talk to a girl, about the same age as all of you! Isn't that special?!"  
A ripple of hidden excitement washes through the class. I look up at our teacher, he's trying to figure out how to  
turn on the T.V. I get up from my desk and walk up to him,  
"Do you need help, Mr. Simmons?" I ask him. He doesn't look up from the remote control,  
"Huh?" he says surprisedly, waking out of his electronic trance, "Oh yes, thank you, Arnold." he says, handing me the  
remote, "By the way..." he adds, "Have you seen Helga? I've tried calling her parents, but they don't seem to like  
giving any answers. It's like they don't know where she is."  
I feel a strange jump in my chest. Like worry, only a lot more disturbing. How could her parents not know where she is...  
...why am I thinking about this?!  
"Um, no, I haven't seen her." Well not since the ally, at least.   
I feel my stomach turn over. The Ally. The place where she...she actually...  
I've never seen her beg for anything.  
But she did then. There is a distinct difference between asking and begging. I learnt that difference then. Begging made you  
feel so much more awful after you say no to it. She had even looked like she was going to cry...  
What am I rambling on about?! Helga? Cry? For me?! Ha! I doubt it.  
I hit the power button, and the begining channel four news credits greet me and the rest of the class.  
Mr. Simmon's shuts of the lights, "Now class, we have to keep our voices down!" He says excitedly.  
"Hey Mr. Simmons, is that stuff about the girl in India for real?" I turn to see Gerald questioning our teacher,  
"Why, yes, Gerald. But no one knows who she is, from what I've heard." he answers,  
"So why's she going to see this 'Salmon' guy?" Rhonda chimes in half-heartedly.  
Mr. Simmons looks around, trying to find an answer, "From what I hear, nobody knows. Something about information."  
"What kind of information?" Sid asks curiously  
Simmons eye's shifted. He was running out of reasons.  
"Well, let's just watch the news, and then we'll all find out, won't we?" he says cheerfully.  
He turns up the volume, and an anchor-woman with heavy lipstick and slick brown hair pops up on the screen immediatly,  
"Good Morning and welcome to the nine o' clock edition of the Seattle News, I'm Julia Fisbien." He voice sounds  
automatic and mechanical, like she didn't really want to be doing what she was, "Our top story today is about a girl  
who's brought the rarly mentioned Sulmon Shuiwamun out of the confides of his hermit living after nearly nine years."  
Pictures of the old man dissolve into view on the screen. They're all obviously from a long time ago, and none of them  
are truly good photos of him. This is getting interesting. Just what would get this man to see someone after nine years?  
"The once famous Sulmon is known to be the richest man in India," Julia continues, "When he was last seen out in  
the public, his wealth was spread far and wide for the people of India. But he seemed to dissapear suddenly for no reason,  
and with no intensions of ever being seen again. His Personal servants and the only ones who've seen him over the years."  
I sat up a little straighter in my seat. Now THIS was getting good. Just what I need to take my mind off Helga...  
I wonder if she's watching this wherever she is...  
I HAVE to stop thinking about her!  
"Now, derictly from Bangalore, India by satelite, our very own coraspondant Joanna McFarlinn"  
The screen was taken over by the mousy woman holding a microphone, squinting in the heated sun   
with countless other reporters, all there for the same reason,  
" Thank you, Julia." she begins, "Reports show that the young girl will be arriving any moment now. Inside sources say  
that she is in fact an American, but that this girl refuses to disclose her name, and is refered to as 'Lady'. This girl  
is travelling with someone who is either her sister or her cousin, according to our informants, and she will be seeing  
Sulmon for information regarding a family affair," Joanna looks over her shoulder, "Oh, I think she's coming! Yes!  
In the black Limo!" Joanna and the camaraman run to the car. I look around the class. Everyone's perfectly silent,  
watching the T.V. We all wait to see the girl who steps out of the car.  
The camara is in perfect view of the car, and I can see the girl clearly as she steps out carefully.  
I look her over.  
I think my mouth is hanging open.  
She's...She's...  
"Garsh, she's dang near peurty 'nuff to be one'a 'em lil' Miss Universe's." I hear Stinky say from the back of the class.  
Took the words right out of my mouth.  
She is pretty...beautiful. She's wearing a vibriant, deep pink dress the looks like she wrapped herself in it. Jewelery  
draps off almost every part of her body. Her skin's pale, but not in an unhealthy way. Like cream. Her Blonde hair  
looks like someone's threaded gold through the thick, childish curls, and whatever stuff she put on her face makes  
her look slightly unreal. She must be about my age, no younger. She reminds me of an Angel.  
No, Actually, she reminds me of Cecile.  
No, Actually, she reminds me of...  
"HELGA!" Rhonda shrieks suddenly, pointing at the screen, "OHMIGOD! IT'S HELGA!"  
We all look back to Rhonda, then to the T.v.,  
"IT IS!" A scream came, this time it was from Phoebe, "IT'S HELGA!"  
Now this is getting ridiculous, "Come on, you guys," I say gently, "That isn't her."  
"Yeah, Helga could never look that good." Gerald agrees.   
Phoebe glares at him, "IT IS HER! I'D KNOW HELGA ANYWHERE! NO MATTER WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE!"  
"Phoebe! Please stop shouting! Calm down!" that was Mr. Simmons.  
We all stare at Phoebe. She's never gone into a fit like this before in her life. She actually thinks that girl is Helga!  
But come on, how can that be? Sure, the girl may have some of the same features, but that doesn't mean anything.  
"OKAY! OKAY! I'LL ANSWER QUESTIONS! CRIMINEY!" Came the upset responce of the Angel from the T.V.,   
after she had climbed about halfway up the immense set of stairs to the house of Sulmon with the four other adults  
who had exited the car with her.  
Oh my God.  
It isn't.  
A reporter on the television shoves a microphone close to her, acciedently knocking her chin,  
"Hey! Watch it there, Bucko!" The girl scolds, less then politly.  
It is.  
"IT'S HELGA!" Harold shouts.  
Various members of the class begin talking in a stunned frenzy while I just watch their bulging eyes pop,  
"How did she get to India?"  
"What is she doing there?"  
"Well, isn't it obvious? To talk to that guy!"  
"But Why?"  
None of us had an answer for that. I look at Mr. Simmons. I've never seen a person lose all the colour in their face that  
fast. He looks like he's trying to point to the T.V.  
Meanwhile, Pandemonium still ensues in the class. Everyone's screaming and...hey, is Phoebe crying?!  
I take a closer look at her. Yes, she is.  
Someone has to stop this.  
I take a deep breath.  
"BE, QUIET!" I yell loudly.  
Everyone stops and looks at me. Great, now that I've embarrased myself, what am I supposed to say?  
"Okay, so we know it's deffinitly...Helga." I say. What is she doing over there, anyways?! Is She okay? Was she   
kiddnapped? Did her parents make her go? Who are those four people standing next to her?!  
Phoebe sniffs, "If we would all listen, we'd probably find out why she's there." she says meakly.  
There were various nods and mumbles of approval. We all shut up and glued our eyes to the Television.  
"Miss! Miss!" one reporter shouts, "What's your Name?"  
Helga looks at him, "My name doesn't matter."  
A young-looking woman with long, straight, slightly dull blonde hair and tanned skin put her arm around Helga's shoulders,  
" The marvelous idea I had in the car was that--" the girl smiles sweetly, "We call her Noël."  
We all sat, wide-eyed.  
Noël?!  
"Why Noël?" asks another reporter,   
"Because it means Christmas." stated one of the young Indian girls next to Helga, "And Little Lady IS Christmas."  
So it's Little Lady now?  
Can't they make up their minds?  
Why won't Helga just tell them?!  
"What do you mean?" Was the next question.   
On of the other Indian ladies was about to answer, when Helga stops her  
"Hold on, I'll answer this." She says, facing the reporters, "The truth is, I'm doing this for someone. As a Christmas gift."  
A mumble went through the media crowd,  
"Who?!"  
"Why?!"  
"Give us some details, Christmas Girl!" come shouts from the knowledge-lacking people  
Helga looks skiddishly at the people,  
"It's for...It's for..." She tries to say. I sit at the edge of my seat. Who, Helga, Who? Who would make you leave?  
"It's for someone...a boy." she says, finally, "A Boy who doesn't know where his parents are. They're...lost."  
My back falls against the chair. My mind shuts down, as I instantly become aware of who she's talking about.  
"No way..." Gerald breathes.  
"You're kidding..." Nadine says,  
"This can't be serious..." Phoebe mutters. Everyone else looks at me.   
This isn't for real, is it?  
"Is this some kind of joke?" I ask out loud to nobody, my voice cracking. Helga only know one kid with lost parents, I think.  
Me.  
She's in India, because of me? WHY IS SHE IN INDIA?! Why is she there for me?!  
Why do I feel like this is my fault?  
Wait a minute, *My* fault? What did I do?!   
I told her I'd never Forgive her.  
But, how could she care about that so much? Enough to fly to India?! What have my parents got to do with India, anyways?  
"So why are you in Bangalore?!" another reporter's voice blares over the T.v.  
Helga looks at the woman like she had just asked the stupidest question on Earth,  
"Have you been out to lunch or something?" she asks, speaking clearly into all the microphones, "I'm looking for  
this boy's parent's, I've come to Sulmon for 'information'. Doesn't it SEEM like the two could be connected? Doi!"  
She crosses her arms and the Blonde woman pats her shoulder soothingly,  
"Now Suge, be nice." she laughs to Helga.  
"SUGE?!" Rhonda, Sheena and Eugene blurt out at the same time.  
The rest of us turn to glare at them until they set their eyes back on the Television, blushing,  
"Hey! Christmas Girl!" one of the paparatzi hollars, "Is she your sister?!" he says, motioning to the older Blonde,  
Helga looks at her, "Who, Row?" she says, "No, she's my Personal Piliot, she flew me to India."  
'Row' steps up a little and gives a small wave, "Rowenna Stevens. Piliot, Texian, Girl workin' for a Chirstmas Angel."  
she introduces herself. Helga crosses her arms and looks down shyly.  
Why arn't I breathing? The last breath I took is in there somewhere, just caught in my chest.   
Helga's gone to India, to...find my parents. I can't believe it. How can I? I mean, I didn't even think she was that...upset.  
But to India? I know my parents were...are explorers, but I never heard of them going to India.   
"If you will excuse our Noël, my friends," says the oldest of all the women around her, "She does have someone to meet."  
The reporters back down and let Helga walk away, all except for Seattle's own Joanna McFarlinn.  
"Hey, Christmas Girl, hold on a second!" she shouts, the camera directly on her, but still showing Helga.  
Helga turns around and raises one of her newly-separated eyebrows, "Yes?" she questions.  
Joanna looks flustered for a second, but manages to say, "How old are you, anyways? And this boy of yours...  
What's his name? Is he your boyfriend?"  
I feel my cheeks burn scarlet and my eyes widen. Me? Helga's Boyfriend?! Why would anyone think that?!  
Well, the fact that she's gone to Bangalore to find your parents MIGHT have something to do with it...  
I look at the T.V. quickly... I can't believe it.   
Half a world away, Helga's blushing, too.  
She swallows and smirks sadly, shaking her head,  
"If age matters that much to you, I'm ten. The boy I'm doing this for hates me so much he never wants to see me again,  
and his name..." suddenly, Helga gets a joking smile on her face, and winks at all the camara's,  
"...His name is none of your business. Goodbye." she finishes playfully, turning her back on the mob of reporters with  
a final wave. The cameraman catches her and the four others rushing up the last of the stairs to a huge door, which  
opens for them quickly before being shut harshly to the surrounding media.  
Joanna faces the camera with an Awestruct look in her eyes,  
"Well...um...there you have it...A girl who's only known as Christmas, going to find an unknown boy's parents.  
Futher details will be reported as the story progresses. I will personally stick to this story, and will not rest until  
I get a REAL interview with the Christmas Girl herself. So, Until next time, for Seattle news, this is   
Joanna McFarlinn, signing off."  
Mr. Simmons walks over to the T.V. and shuts it off, looking like a deer caught in headlights.  
He's not alone, that's the basic expression on the whole class's face.  
"Would somebody get the lights, please?" he sqeaks,  
Lorenzo stands up in a zombie-like state and flicks the lights on.  
"Well..." Mr. Simmons tries, but seems not to know how to continue.  
After a weighty silence, Harold speaks up with clear confusion,  
"You mean Helga went over there...for Arnold?" he asks himself outloud, for once to stunned to yell, "I don't get it..."  
"Niether do I," Sid admits quicky,  
"It don't make no sense." Stinky adds.  
Meanwhile, I can hear Brainy's wheezing at the back, and Curly's vainly muffeled maniacal giggling. But I can't move.  
I can't do anything. Nothing's working. Everything in me has just, stopped.  
"It makes a lot of sense." Rhonda suddenly announced.  
I got my mind working long enough to turn my head to look at her, as did the rest of the class,  
"Arnold got mad at Helga for calling him....parentless a few days ago." She says, bluntly, but still trying not to be rude.  
Everyone looks at me again. Why do they all look so shocked?! Didn't I have the right to be angry?!  
"Is that true, Arnold?" Phoebe whimpers,  
I feel a thin sweat break out over my skin as I push my hair back,  
"She...I...I told her I wouldn't forgive her...I told her I didn't want to see her again..." I stutter.  
Oh God, It is my fault, isn't it?  
No, wait! She hurt ME! But, I hurt her back because of it. Hold on, how was I supposed to know she cared so much?!  
I hear a few of the girls whisper, "Phoebe, are you okay?"  
I turn to her, and she's looking at me, her eyes focused and glaring.  
"You...you... IMBICILE!" she shrieks, and I lean back away from her.  
"You didn't get it, YOU NEVER COULD! YOU STUPID...." she fades out and starts crying again. We all rush over to her.  
"It's okay, Phoebe," Gerald says, making an attempt to calm her down.  
Phoebe looks up at me and frowns deeply,  
"She won't stop." she says meakly, "She'll go to the ends of the Earth if she has to. I know what she's like."  
I gulp. To the ends of the Earth? No, that can't be. Helga knows I don't HATE her.  
Just then, I remember the line she had given the reporter,  
'...the boy I'm doing this for hates me so much he never wants to see me again...' her words sound through my mind.  
Oh. No.  
"Why, that sounds oh-so unlike Helga." Lila says, stating the obvious.  
I put my head in my hands, "I didn't think she even COULD take it that far. I thought she wouldn't care. I thought..." I sigh.  
Phoebe shakes her head, "You THOUGHT wrong." she retorts.  
Gerald looks me over, "You okay man?"  
I shake my head, "I don't know."  
I really don't know.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
The doors shut, locking us away from the harsh mob of reporters that had made me so neveous only moments before.  
I gulp, "I told them too much, didn't I?" I ask the four around me.  
Row nods truthfully, but puts her hand on my shoulder reassuringly,  
"You'll get better at it, Suge. Don't you go fretin' about it now."  
Aishwara, Arushia and Roja all nod encouragingly. I sigh heavily. I can't believe I blew it! Talk about a crash and Burn.  
And Oh boy, did I ever get the BURN part in spades! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!  
I take a quick look around Sulmon's Mansion. The ceiling's are higher then a church's, and have intracetly painted pictures  
of ancient India. The floors are solid marble with expensive hand made rugs thrown here and there. There are five   
different doors, each made of a polished dark wood with a large, guady doorknob. Two on the left side, two on the right,  
one in the center. The deorating is tasteful, but the walls look like someone painted them with melted gold.  
"Excuse me?" A voice says from ahead of us. I look up to see an Elderly man who looks like a butler. His looks are  
purly Indian, which seems to clash with his thick English Accent. He give us a quick, short bow, which is all his stiff   
butlers uniform seems to allow  
"I am Fredrick, Sulmon's most trusted attendant. I have been asked to send the little Girl into his Office, while the rest of  
you will wait in the conservatory. Reem will show the four of you Ladies the way."   
A younger Butlar in the same outfit entered from one of the side doors and led Ashwara, Arishia, Row and Roja  
away with a hasty, "This way, if you please, Ladies."  
At the last minute, Row turns around to face me,   
"HEY SUGE!" She yells across the unnesicarily large room, "GOOD LUCK!"  
I grin, "THANKS!" I yell back, cupping my hands over my mouth for a better effect.  
I face Fredrick again, still smiling, while he maintains a serious gaze.  
"Well...this way please, Miss." he says flatly, leading the way.  
We go through the center door, and a series of others before we reach what looks to be the office of a multi-billionaire.  
The doors reach the top of the cieling and have engravings of people and places from a time long ago on it.  
Fredrick opens the doors wth a sweeping, over-dramatized motion and gestures for me to enter. I do so, and jump  
as the door is banged shut from behind me. What? He's not coming in too? You mean I have to be here alone?!  
Unfair Advantage! Sulmon's a wise old man, I'm a ten-year-old fool in love! Where is the justice?!  
My eyes dart aroud the room cautiously. The walls have been fully covered by bookshelves, which have been fully   
stocked with row after row of large, grand-looking books. The waiting chairs are plush, appolstered with marron-  
coloured velvet. The carpet is a crimson colour that matches my lipstick and at the end of the room...an immense desk.  
With an old man furitivly writting in a book.  
Sulmon.  
I take a deep breath and begin to walk my way up to him. The only light in the room in from the wall-sized window   
behind the desk. But the blinds on it have been half-shut, causing the room to be grey and shady.  
Slowly, my feet cross the spongy carpet. One step at a time. Easy, Helga. No rush. Don't be afraid. You have  
nothing to be afraid of. You're Helga G. Pataki, remember? Nothing Phases you. Nothing.  
"If you don't move faster," the icy voice bites into my thoughts, "Then I'll be dead and buried before you get here."  
Sulmon. I didn't think he'd sound that mean.  
I inhale sharply and succeed in trying not to fall over. I stand where I am, frozen to the spot.  
"Well?! Come on, girl! I've better things to do then to sit and wait for you to find your backbone!" he spits, not even  
bothering to look up at me.  
I find myself glaring at him now, straightening myself and crossing my arms. Find MY Backbone? What gives him  
the right to talk to me like that?! And Girl?! No one calls me Girl! Oh yes, I KNOW where my backbone is, Sulmon!  
"Don't call me girl." I say sharply, clearing the distance to the front of his desk in a matter of seconds,  
"They call me Noël, and my Backbone's in perfect working order, thank you."  
Sulmon looks up from his desk, his black eyes looking into mine. His skin was light brown after years of aging, and his  
beard and hair had gone almost completely gray. His clothes were nothing like mine, or anyone else's I had seen. His were  
simple. Dark. Nothing Eleborate for him.  
He gives me a tight-lipped smile as he puts down his pen and shuts the book he had been writing in,  
"I was not expecting someone so...pale." he says tactlessly.   
I don't have any patience for this usless small talk.  
"Yeah? Well, learn to deal with it, sir." I say briskly, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get Arnold's parents home   
sometime BEFORE Christmas." He knew all about Arnold. It'd been explained in the letter.  
He froze, chuckling softly, which sounds surprizingly warm coming from him,  
"Ah, I see I have met my match in this...Noël." he says to himself. He pushes hiself away from the desk, staying seated.  
"Come here then, Noël, I have been eagar to meet you ever since your letter first came to me."  
I stood there, slack-jawwed.  
How is it that he's so nice all of a sudden?! Is he just intensionally messing with my mind?!  
He laughs again, "Oh, I see you believed my little act of a moment past." he brags, "Yes, most people do. It is more  
of a test, really. You have no idea how many people will run away scared of they recieve even the least bit of intimidation  
from their higher powers." he grins nostalgicly. Well, looks like I have something in common with him, at least.  
"Oh." Well, what else am I supposed to say?!  
I walk over to his side of the desk and he looks me over,  
"I see Aishwara picked out your clothes." he notes, "She always has been one to...overdress for any occasion."  
I smile knowingly, "I don't think she has anything that wouldn't work to take to a Ball."  
Sulmon grins, nodding understandingly.  
"Now, Noël, shall we begin? It's Andrew and Gwen you want to know about." he says, becoming solom instantly.  
My expression melts back into the picture of seriousness, "Yes, Arnold's parents."  
He nods again mindlessly.  
I wonder...  
"Did you know about Arnold, Sulmon Sir?" I question, still trying not to be too rude.  
He laughes quickly, and looks at me secretivly, pulling open a desk drawer.  
"Did I know about Arnold?" he repeats, rumagging thought the drawer's contents before finding the desired object.  
Just a piece of something. He places it on the desk between us and I look at it. I gasp when I see what it is.  
Arnold was such a cute baby! Or, at least, he is in the picture before me right now.  
The picture itself was taken in a hospital, and it shows Arnold's Mom and Dad. His Mother was in a hospital bed,  
looking a little tired, but smiling brilliantly down at the bundle she held in her arms. The Father was knelt beside her,  
smiling too, at the tiny thing.  
And what was the little parcel? Why, a tiny, newborn Arnold, of course.  
"Ohh..." I coo at the adorable picture, smiling widely. I look up to see Sulmon watching me, and quickly shut my mouth.  
Sulmon points down at the picture, "This was taken shortly after Arnold had been delivered. They sent it to me,  
along with a lenghty letter on what a wonderful son he was--"  
"Is." I interject curtly, "What a wonderful son he is."  
He gave me an odd, knowledgable look. What exactaly does he know?  
"Yes," he says, "I've always known about him, Noël."  
He always knew. "Then why not tell Arnold that? You know where he lives, don't you?"  
"Yes."  
"Then why--?"  
"I don't care to burden people with information if the are not going to use it." He states, "If Arnold were to ever have looked  
for his parents, then his search would have led him to me, anyways. I saw no point in giving him knowledge that could   
not be used until he decides it is time to go out into the world. Do you understand?"  
I concentrate on the picture, on how happy the three of them were together, "Yes, I think I do."  
"Good." he praises softly, "But I do believe it is you who wants to know where Andrew and Gwen have gone."  
I look to the old man hopefully, "Yes. Please, Sulmon, can you tell me?"  
He sighs, getting up from his desk and walking around to the window. He puts his hand to his forehead,  
"I would tell you, Noël, if only I knew."  
my eyes widened, and I blinked, "What?"   
"I don't know where they are. When they last wrote me, they told me that they were going somewhere in South America.   
That is all I know. I'm sorry I cannot be of more help."  
Every last bit of hope and faith I had held in the past few days shattered.  
So that was it?  
Game over?  
No! It can't be! I won't let it end like this! How could I?!  
"Isn't there something you can do?!" I beg, "Isn't there anyone else you know who would know where in south America  
they are? Please, Sulmon, think!"   
Sulmon turns to me, obviously shocked by the passion in my voice. He leans against the window and rubs his beard between   
his fingers thoughtfully,  
He suddenly looks up into nothing, chorteling a little, "Tell me, Noël, have you ever met the Queen?"  
Uh oh, did he just snap without my knowing?  
"Um...you mean of England?" I say slowly.  
"The very same." he affirms.  
"...Well, no."  
"Such a pity." he says, his smile indescribable, "We will have to recitify that."  
He sat back down in his chair in another instant and began going through his drawers once again,  
"You see, every year, Her Majesty invites me to one of her Royal Before-Christmas Dinner Party's. It's a rather  
ridiculous show of wealth, and I turn it down every time." He looks at my dumbfounded face and shakes his head,  
"It's alright, Noël, I haven't gone mad. The Queen was on the same terms with Andrew and Gwen as I. She loved  
to invite them to one of her many Palaces for gatherings, if I remember correctly. They would go and hide themselves away   
from the Media...a talent that you haven't mastered yet, from what I have heard."  
I smirk at him weakly and shrug.  
"Anyways," He continues, extracting another paper from on of the drawers, "They may have mentioned something to  
Her Royal Highness just before they left that I was not told about. It's quite a....how do you Americans say it?...  
'Long Shot'? But I think that it may work."   
he hands me the paper and I look it over. He wasn't lying, it's an invitation to 'Her Royal Majesties Pre-Holiday Gala'.  
Talk about embelishing a party.  
"You will go in my place." he says matter-of-factly, "And the Queen will hear you, and she will try to help you, I am  
sure of it." he put his elbow on the desk and rests his chin in his hand.  
"Can Row come too?" is my immediate question.  
He looks at me wonderingly, "Row?" he asks.  
"Yes, the Piliot who flew me here. I'd like her to come with me to the Party, can that be done?"  
Sulmon shrugs boredly, "But of course." he says, "But I think before you go anywhere near the Queen, you will have to  
buy some suitable clothing, practical to where you will be."  
I look over my overdressed self, "Yeah, that's for sure." I mutter.   
We both laugh a little, before he says, "Come, there is never any time to spare. We must get you packed and ready to   
go to England before the day is out."  
I nod vigerously, and get ready to leave his office,  
"Just a moment." He says, getting up to follow me, then grabbing the picture of Arnold's family of the table.  
After a short pause, he hands it to me.  
"I think you would appreciate having this more then I ever could." he says, "You seem to care deeply about Arnold."  
I almost instantly become alert when he said that. I can't place it. Just the way he said the word 'Deeply'.   
I can tell He knows.  
My heart began to race. Would he say it outloud? Would he tell me he knows?  
"Please." he urges, "Take it."  
No, he wouldn't.  
I gingerly take the photo from his hand and he smiles at me, for all the effort I put into the one gesture.  
He leads me out, and we walk side-by-side into the conservetory, which is basically just a huge room with a  
skylight for a cieling and lots of plants. When we got there, he gave Aishwara some friendly small talk and discussed   
the plans for meeting the Queen to Row. We stayed there untill the last of the reporters were gone, and the five of us could  
leave in peace. Sulmon and Fredrick both showed us to the door.  
Before I leave, I look at Sulmon carfully. He looks almost noble, standing there with a newly kindled hope in his eyes.  
I don't know what posses's me, but I suddenly go over there and give him a short hug, just like the one I had given Dad  
the day I left. The sense of Deja Vu is so overpowering I'm nearly frozen where I stand.  
Sulmon looks at me, smile sad and wavering,   
"I hope you find what you are looking for, Noël." he says to me.  
I leave then, with a final nod of acknowledgement. But not before I hear the last words of Sulmon, Just before the car   
drives away into the humid Indian night, which will soon enough be replaced by a grey English day,  
"For all our sakes, I hope you do."  
  
~*~End of Chapter Two~*~  
Okay, So here's the thing, guys. Since the was supposed to be a C H R I S T M A S story, I'm not sure if you want   
me to continue it anymore. Sorry I'm so late, but you have NO IDEA how busy the Christmas Season gets for  
me! (alright, some of you probably do out there ^_^) If you want to see more of this story, I'll probably put  
up chapter three within a day or two. So Reveiw and tell me what it's gonna be, because if you're sick of this story  
I don't wanna bother you guys with it! ^_~  
So, till next time, kiddies,  
Wishin' u...  
Luv  
Life  
Luck  
n' Lafta  
~*~CD~*~ 


	3. The Queen's Heart.

Hi there! Any a' y'all out there remember me? Oh, Come on! I haven't been gone THAT long...have I? Okay, maybe  
I have, but I have a very full life! Alright, that's no excuse but.... :::Falls to her knees::: Please Forgive me for not updating   
sooner! I'll never do such a horrible thing again, Promise!   
*Tee Hee* Okay, now that THAT insanity's over and done with, onto the third Chapter!  
Disclaimer- If I owned Hey Arnold, Arnold and Helga would be living in happy coupled bliss whilst trying to set up  
Phoebe and Gerald, who would then insist upon having a double wedding with their blonde matchmakers when they  
reached the age of Twenty-Four and....oh, why am I writing this?!   
  
~*~A Christmas Present for Arnold~*~  
(@)~)~~Chapter three- The Queen's Heart.~~(~(@)  
  
I look up at the skylight in my room. Lying down on my bed, I should be asleep. But I can only think of one thing.  
Her.  
Helga, where are you?  
You're out there, somwhere in India, searching. For your benifit? No. For mine. You're trying to find MY Parents.  
Why?  
Because you think I hate you? I lied. I'll never hate you. I'll never hate anyone. I don't think I've ever felt hate before in my  
life.What makes you think that I would hate you? Because it seemed that way at the time? People say a lot of things when  
they're angry. A lot of things that they don't mean, that they'll never mean. You've been gone for two weeks now.  
Reporters are trying to find you, but you've vanished again. Why are you so good at that?  
Why am I talking to you in my mind?  
Because you're no where else where you can hear me, that's why. We watch the News everyday now in class at   
nine o' clock, just to see if there's any news of you.   
There never is. Just constant speculation. Of where you are, who you might be with, why you might be there.  
They say you may be in China.  
I can't believe I told you I'd never forgive you.   
I do.   
I wish you were here, right now, so I could tell you that.  
I'm worried.  
I'm worried about you, Helga.   
Come Back.  
Please?  
I glance at the clock. 4:02 a.m. Another Sleepless night. Because of her. I can't get my mind off her. Even when I dream,  
she's right there. You never know how much you'll miss a person, until they're gone. I never expected to need her back  
this much. The funny thing is, it's not because she's out there, in the world, because of me. It's not because I feel guilty,  
and I need her back to help ease my conscience. I miss her. I actually, truly, miss not having her here.  
I miss her mood swings.  
I miss her sarcasm.  
I even miss her calling me Footballhead.  
But most of all, I think I miss the times when she would be herself in front of me. And I miss the sound of her voice, when  
she leaves her bully exterior behind.  
I didn't think I could miss her so much.   
But I do. Even though I'm not sure why.  
Helga, if you're out there, I need to know you're alright.  
I can't lose you too.  
I feel my eyes getting heavy. I yawn, and then there's only a warm, familiar, darkness.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Suge, you'll be the Belle of the Ball!" Row squeals happily, tipping the brim of her white cowboy hat up.  
I turn around in front of the mirrors, looking at myself from every angle, "Riiiight. Like I care about that." I scoff.  
Row pouts in jest, "Well, it can't hurt to have you looking Drop Dead Gorgeous."  
I raise my right eyebrow, "You're enjoying this." I say.  
Row smirks, "Sure am."  
I roll my eyes, getting in a quick look at the scenry change from India. We're in London, England, now. And Everything's  
different. England is very class-defined, I've learned. You're either rich, or you're poor. I guess it's like that everywhere,  
but for some reason, It's so much more noticable here. The sky is never blue, either. There may have been some sun  
before we got here, but Row and I can't be to sure.We're staying with a woman who was knighted by the Queen herself   
for serivce to the Royal family, some time back. Dame Cordelia Wells. She's an older woman, but not anything as old  
as Aishwara. She's about in her late Sixties. She's the kind of person who wear's bringht red lipstick, teases their  
hair, and has a friendly smart remark to almost anything you can say. She's open as a book, but as hard to get as Algebra.  
I like her.  
She's also related to Row...in some way. Niether of them really know how. Some sort of Auntish-cousin thing when  
one of Row's Uncle's married one of the Dame's distant Cousins.  
Basically, they're not related, but they pretend to be because they like eachother so much.  
Row and Cordie (as she later told me to call her.) told me that they've seen eachother very often. When Row first came  
to England, her Uncle introduced the two of them, and ever since then, whenever she would fly there, she would visit   
Cordie. It was inevitable that we would end up staying at her house, but that's okay. I like this place about as much as  
I like Cordie Herself. The house is...really more of a mansion, but very modest. It has an outdoor's sort of cottage  
theme, and evrything in it is meant to be casual and comfortable. The place looks lived-in, not like an antique you're not  
allowed to go near. In the bedroom Cordie gave me, there are the relics of a few stains on the beige shag carpeting, and  
the wood of the furniture is faded to a warm tan.  
The second we had arrived in the house, Row had told Cordie about the party over tea (I'm actually starting to like the   
taste of the caffine-laden stuff), and Cordie had been overjoyed to inform us that not only had she, too, recieved an   
invitation, but that she would also be in attendence, and would be honoured if the infamous 'Christmas Girl' and her Piliot  
Rowenna Stevens accompanied her. We'd both agreed.   
The first thing Cordie did, was to give me (as a gift, she said) another full wardrobe, this time full of all the lastest fashions  
off of all the hottest runways.Row had gone through the agony of making me try every last one of them on, to see how they  
fit. Even I have to admit, most of them were nice. I'm not into fashion, but at least the clothes given to me were a bit more  
ordinary then a closet full of Saree's and Langa Suit's. Some of the things the Dame gave me, though, were tossed faster  
then I could throw them across the room. Rhonda would've liked them. They were all showy. Stuff you wore to make  
people think you're a snob who has time to go to all of those fashion shows and buy the designers silghtly strange clothes.  
I snap myself out of my thought, looking at the desk that held a little box. It was out from it's usual place in  
my duffel bag, I'd been showing it to Cordie. The present I'd gotten for Phoebe.  
When I'd taken a second glance at all the jewelery Aishwara had, the   
necklace with a simple chain and an oval pendant with a dark blue stone in the center had caught my eye. Lapis,  
Aishwara said it was. She told me that one of her friends had given it to her, and if I wanted it, then it was mine.  
I'd told her exactly what the fate of the piece would be, and she had only smiled and said,  
"It will have a better home around this Phoebe's neck then it will hidden away in one of my Jewelerly boxes."   
So I'd taken it along with me. I've brought it out to look at, a few times during the week.  
When Row and I saw the date on the invite Sulmon gave me, on the ride to England, we'd instantly groaned.  
We'd have to stay there for one week before the Gala was shedualed. But now it was the Day Of. And besides,  
Cordie's jokes had made the week pass quickly and happily.  
At least, mostly happily.  
Arnold was always in the back of my mind. My locket was constantly being pulled out. I dream about him, too.  
I stay up some nights, replaying the ally scene over and over, going through every moment we've spent together.  
But most of the time, I don't let it go to that extreme. After all, he'll soon have his parents back. He'll soon be happy.  
Damn. I've become an optimist, haven't I?  
Now we were in Cordie's room. She had brought me evening gowns. Gowns upon Gowns. More then I'd ever know  
what to do with. Cordie's off getting us drinks while I'm trying on the tenth dress. Row said she likes this one the best.  
Row looks like a real Texian today, it made Cordie and I laugh when she came downstairs for Breakfast. She's wearing  
and worn, white coyboy hat, a fitted blue-plaid buttondown shirt, and a pair of purposly faded jeans with leather patches  
at the knees and down then sides.  
"How many more do I have to try on?" I say, trying to be annoying.  
"Five." She answers sweetly, batting her eyelashes teasingly.  
I sigh and fall to the ground, eight layers of lavender chiffon floating down with me.  
I really hate dresses like this. They're supposed to make you look like a princess, but they end up making you look bloated.  
Row laughes suddenly.  
I grin, "What's so funny?" I ask.  
She starts laughing harder, "You just...look so...uncomfortable..." she breaks into a fit of giggles.  
Cordie enters then, with a tray of two Cherry cola's for Me and Row, and a glass of red wine for her.  
She takes one look at me and shakes her head, "Bullocks, Noël, you look ready to murder yourself."  
I slump, "Can I take this thing OFF?" I plead, still smiling a bit.  
Cordie waves her hand, "Yes, Go, go. Ya' look like an overstuffed doll anyways."  
Row stops laughing, "I think she looks CUTE!"  
"This coming from the girl wearing a Coyboy hat in England." Cordie shoots back elfishly.  
I try and hold in my laugh, but end up snorting it through my nose.  
Row gives me a mock-glare, "You. Off to the bathroom."  
I make a mad dash to the bathroom ajoined to Cordie's bedroom, quickly getting the thing   
off me right before Cordie throws in another,  
"I wan'ya to try this one. Two'a the otha's look like the've been mangled and had things spilt on'em.  
Id'jit designers. Gits, the lot of 'em." Cordie says, letting her life-long English accent show fully. I take a look at the dress,   
eyeing it over carfully. First thing that caught my eye, was that it was a shade of pink. That calms me down immediatly.  
Okay, it's at least a colour I know I like. It's a light pink, and with the way the fabric shimmers, it sometimes looks white.  
The top has straps the size of elastic bands and has has metalic pink thread fully sewn in through the entire bodice.  
the skirt's made up of the same coloured silk, flares out, and has a trail of a few feet.  
I grudgingly put the thing on. It's soft, at least. Doesn't make my legs feel like they're being scratched up against  
barbed wire. I zip it up, having a little trouble at the end, but I manage. I shake out my hair and re-enter the room,   
where Row and Cordie are arguing about whether Row would look good in neon green.  
"I'll look smashing!" Row tries, a fake accent veiling her intensions.  
"You'll look sickly." Cordie counters.  
I clear my throat.  
They both look at me. Cordie covers her wide smile with her hand,  
"That one." Row says with finality,  
"That's fer' sure." Cordie agrees. She get's up and lead me to the mirrors.  
I have to admit, the thing doesn't look bad on me.  
"Shouldn't I try on the--"  
"NO!" both woman cut in on the end of my sentance.  
"Alright, Alright! Criminey!" I say, waving my hands in the air as a sign of surrender.  
Cordie grins, taking a sip of her wine, "Good. Now, we've got my dress, Noël's dress, now all we need is dear  
Row's ruddy dress."  
I smile with relief, "And then we're done, right?" I'll be glad to get this over with!  
Cordie's eyes pop at me and laughs loudly,  
"Done? Oh darlin', no! We gotta get to Clara and Vickie's salon for hair and nails and makeup and--"  
I hold up my hand, "Wait a minute, Sister! Just How long are we going to have to do this?"  
Cordie thinks for a bit, "Well, let's see, we'll probably be done with dresses by one. So I'd say from one thirty 'till  
'round five? we have to be at the Party by Five-Thirty."  
I look at Row. Row looks at me.  
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" we both say in chorus. Three and a Half hours, just to go to Dinner?! Come on, the Queen can't  
be that worried about what we're going to look like!  
Cordie clucks her toungue at us, tilting her head back to laugh,  
"C'mon, Sweedies, it won't be all that bad! The press is gonna' be there, so I want us to look our best!" she puts her hands   
to her hips and tilts her head in a jest impression of some sort of 50's mother-figure.  
But I caught what she just said,  
"Pr...press?" I inquire. Oh please, say it isn't so!  
"Yeah, the place is going to be absolutly CRAWLING with the buggar's!" Cordies says, rolling her eyes in exasperation.  
I groan in agony, throwing myself onto Cordie's bed.  
"Well, wha'ja expect, sweed'art? She IS the Queen!"  
"I'm not good around press." I mumble to Cordie, my head buried into the sheets.  
"Now, Suge, what did I tell ya' 'bout worrying like that?" Row eases, trying to make the fact that I would be eaten alive  
once more a bit more bearable, "It ain't healthy."  
"Our dear Rowenna's Right." Cordie says amiably, " 'Side's, hun, we'll be there to help you. We'll make sure you keep  
your mouth good an' shut when you need to."  
I sit up from my panic, and Cordie hands me my coke. I take a sip, contemplating what she just said.  
Hey, they were two grown adults. If they couldn't put a stop to my big mouth, then who else could?!  
"Well, maybe it won't be that bad, after all." I mutter, more to myself then to them,  
" 'Course it won't." Row chirps brightly, "Now, can we all concentrate on the most important matter at hand?"  
Cordie and I both look at her inquizitivly,  
"What's that?" I ask, speaking for both of us.  
Row skips over to a pile of dresses, located on the far end of the room, that are intented for her,  
"Why, findin' ME a dress, Suge Honey!"  
We all laugh. But no matter how Row pouts, we still manage to keep her away from that neon green dress she snuck  
in by herself.  
I take a long glup of my cherry coke, closing my eyes to feel the cool liquid sliding down my throat.  
In another place, another time, all would've been right with the world.  
But it just isn't.  
I miss Arnold.  
I'm closer, Arnold. I'm getting closer. I hope you know that.  
I wonder, do you miss me at all, Footbalhead?  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
"Do you think she'll be on today?"  
"I dunno."  
"She has to be, how can someone just dissaper?"  
"She dissapered to get to India..."  
"Doesn't mean she can do it again!"  
"How do you know?"  
Silence.  
This was the coversation of the gang, crowded outside my front stoop and huddled around the small, portable T.V.  
We've been doing this on the weekends, congregating at my front porch for every news report, just to see if there's  
anything new about Helga. I'm just watching. Just waiting. The news'll be on in a few minutes. I think I'll lose it  
if there isn't anything about her today. I think I'll just grab a ticket to wherever and start looking for her myself.  
Hey, if she can do it, so can I.  
I hear a muttered greeting to someone who's just arrived.Gerald. He smiles and quickly takes a seat next to me on the  
top step, turning to face me unsurly  
"How you doing, Arnold?" He asks me.  
I try to smile, but it comes out a rueful grin, "Wish I knew." I mumble as an answer  
He nods, looking at the T.V...no, looking at Phoebe, from the corner of his eye,  
"She's worse." he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. I look at Helga's best friend, letting out a sigh,  
"Yeah." is all I can say. Phoebe has gotten worse. There are grey hallow's under her eyes, from insomnia worse then mine.  
Her hair is disheveled, and the colour in her skin is drained. She wouldn't look bad...if you like corpses. This started after  
we haden't heard anything about Helga three days after her apperence in India. Rhonda's different now, too.  
She's anxious. She get's jumpy everytime Mr. Simmons says he has an annoucment. The whole class is pretty much  
like that, though. You can almost hear us hold our collective breaths when the anchor person annouces a 'Special  
Report'.  
"...And now, the Seattle News with Russel Hudson." says the over-acted voice from the T.V.  
We all stop. We all watch the screen. A young man who's just begining to show signs of balding--Russel Hudson--  
sits in the news room, straightening his papers and waiting for the cue to speak.  
He looks up from the batch of perfect sheets, "Hello, and thank you for joining us today on the Seattle News, I'm  
Russel Hudson." is his introduction. He lets his expression mould into one of interest before reading his first story,  
"Today, we are pleased to annouce that it is Her Majesty, the Queen of England's Thirty-Fifth annual Pre-Christmas  
Dinner Ball. The best of Society from England and around the world will be there in an early celebration of the Holiday   
Season that is quickly coming upon us."  
Oh, who cares! That CAN'T be the top story! These people must know where Helga is! That's more important then some  
royal party! I take a deep breath. I have to calm down.  
"We will now go there, live Via Sattelite, with our own Coraspondent, Joanna McFarlinn."  
We're all shot into a rush of consiousness. Joanna McFarlinn? No! She's looking for Helga! She can't be there! Unless...  
She's given up.  
"Wilicker's, guys, I rekon Joanna ain't lookin' fer' Helga no more." Stinky tells us.  
"Shh!" Nadine hushed him quickly,  
No, she hasn't given up. She can't. Or else, who's going to find Helga?  
Joanna's on the screen in the next instant, her microphone in hand, in front of a huge, castle-like estate. She's standing  
beside one of those Red-Velvet Ropes that are used as barriers at banks. There's a whole string of ropes, and on the   
other side of them, a red carpet leading up to the doorway of a palace. The caption at the   
bottom of the screen reads 'Buckingham Palace' There are tons of other reporters cramped beside her, shouting their  
story, and making so much noise that she practically has to yell into the camera,  
"Thank you, Russel. I'm outside The Famous Buckingham Palace right now where the Elite from around the World are   
just begining to arrive for a night of Royal Treatment. Elton John and Elizabeth Taylor arrived earlier tonight, and we  
excitedly awaited the next group of well-known people to step onto the Red Carpet beside me."  
A white limo, longer then any I've ever seen, pulls up to the carpet. Somebody hands Joanna a piece of paper and she reads  
from it quickly,  
"Yes, we've just got word that the Dame Cordelia Wells is about to step out of that car...But she does seem to have  
two other guests that are unknown...let's watch." the camera turns to the carpet, but does it so that Joanna is still seen  
from the corner. The rest of the reporters crowd around, holding out there microphones in hopes to get an interview.  
A valet dressed in a red suit opens the door, keeping his back stiff and his chin up the entire time, and out step three  
people, one at a time. The first looks fairly old, with grey-blonde hair and a bright red dress made to pool around her,  
and sleeves that out lengthed her arms. But she was forgotten, the second we saw the next woman steps out.   
She's medium height with long blonde hair that was dead straight, except for the ends, and two stands that hang in her  
face. She's wearing an apple-green dress that's fitted to her body and flares out at her ankels. It has no sleeves, only   
weird, criss-cross straps, but she does have on Elbow-length gloves, the same colour as her dress.  
We all recognize her imediatly,  
"IT'S THAT WOMAN! ROWENNA!" Phoebe shrieks at the T.V.  
"Yeah! The pilot lady!" is what I hear from Sid.  
"Is Helga with her?!" came the impatient voice of...hey, wait, did I say that?  
As if to answer that question, the third person steps out. A girl, younger and smaller then everyone else, wrapped in a  
sheer, oversized scarf that covers her shoulders. It's probably supposed to keep her warm, but I doubt it is. Her pale  
pink dress glows a silver-white off the camera lights, the end of it following behind her as she walks. Her golden locks  
are left down and free, falling over her shoulders in their own, curled style. And her light-pink lips curve up in a nervous grin.  
Helga.  
"Helga!" Phoebe exclaims, brows knit together in worry and confusion,  
"I can't believe it..." Rhonda breathes  
"WHAT?! HOW'D SHE GET OVER THERE?!" Harold, of course.  
"...Does this mean Arnold's Mom and Dad are Royalty?" Sheena asks herself out loud, tilting her head in question.  
Everyone stops talking and looks at me, waiting for my answer.  
Before I open my mouth, I'm saved, by the one and only Joanna McFarlinn,  
"I don't believe it!" her voice blares over the T.V., "It's Christmas Girl! With her Piliot, Rowenna Stevens!"  
We all turn back to face the screen, where every reporter is shouting at Helga.   
"Hey, Christmas Girl!"  
"Noël! Over here!"  
"Answer a few questions, Noël!"  
"Christmas Girl! Christmas Girl!"  
As her limo drives away, she turns to Joanna's side of the gathered crowd, putting her hands to her hips,  
"Criminey, WHAT?!" she demands loudly, her eyes wide and waiting.  
"Careful, Noël." says the old woman in the red dress--Cordelia Wells, I'm guessing-- almost immediatly.  
Helga nods to her, then turns back to the reporters. Rowenna goes and stands next to her without hesitation.  
It was nighttime there already, and Helga pulls the scarf around her more tightly, probably half frozen from the cold. Can't  
these people just let her go in? If she get's sick, It's their fault! Don't they care?! She looks at all of them,  
"Ask me what you want to, it's too cold out here to stay for long. You all have coats." Ha! I knew it!  
One reporter takes off his coat and hands it to her over the rope. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes,  
"If I take THAT I'll never get inside! Cripes, can't you flesh-eaters find other people to annoy?" she says to them,  
"Just a couple of questions, Noël!" One reporter assures.  
She stares at the man, flinging her arms out in question,  
"So I'm waiting, but your not asking!" She responds, cheeks flushing in anger.  
A hush falls over the media's best, as they think up a real question that will get Helga to divulge what they really what to   
know. Her name, My name. Reporters care too much about things they shouldn't.  
"Why are you here?!" asks a young female reporter. Hmm, I remember that being asked before.  
She turn's to her, "Why do YOU think? More information, doi!" she retorts simply.  
"The Queen knows this kids parents?" a Man's voice booms over the murmers of the people.  
Rowenna puts her hand on Helga's arm, shooting her a cautious glance.  
Helga looks at her, then at one of the other camera's and smirks,   
"Does she?" she says patronizingly, acting dumb, and smirking at the sighs of the frustrated newspeople.  
"Have you made any attempt to contact the boy who--"  
"No." Helga snaps back the answer to that question so fast, it left the people stunned. I bite my lip out of guilt.  
A hundred falshes of light hit her, as some of the paparatzi take pictures for their newspapers and journals.  
"Where have you been for the past week?!" one woman calls out.  
"With Cordie." Helga responds bordly, pointing to the Dame, who smiles, crossing her arms.  
Helga shivers violently then, and begins to walk with the two women to the doors leading into the Palace,  
"Alright everyone, one more question before Miss Wells, Suge n' I freeze!" Rowenna shouts to the Media.  
"Christmas girl, tell us!" The voice of a young man hollars, "Are you any closer to finding the boys parents?!"  
We all sit up on the steps as Helga stops dead in her tracks, tilting her head down and staring into nothing,  
"Yes. I'm much closer." she says evenly, but in a voice barly audible, "I'll find them, you don't have to worry about that."  
She steps up to the castle doors, where two soldier's let the three of them in.  
And Helga's gone again.  
"No..." I breathe.   
NO!  
She can't just dissapear again!   
Joanna McFarlinn turns to her carmera uncertainly, "Well, that's the second time we've heard from this elusive Christmas  
Girl, but will it be the last? My answer to all the wondering viewers out there is...No."  
We all stare at the T.V quizicly and sit up a little straighter,  
"The Seattle News," Joanna anounces with satisfaction spread across her face, "Has been given one of the few  
VIP Media Access Tickets into the party that are handed out every year to various News and Entertainment Stations."  
She pulls out a card from under her jacket that she wears around her neck with the help of a piece of string, brandishing  
it to the camera smugly.  
"In half an hour," she continues, "I will be inside Buckinham Palace to talk to the guests...and I will make it a point to   
see that I get a chance to speak to Noël!" Some other reporter's in the mob on T.V glare at her, obviously wanting the  
little plastic card around her neck.  
"So, Join me in thirty minutes, when we'll have an inside look of the Queen's Christmas Party! Until then, I'm Joanna  
McFarlinn...back to you, Russel."  
Russel comes back on the screen, in the newsroom, and Stinky shuts off the T.V.   
Like we could care about what else happened.  
"So...she's in England now..." Nadine reasons,  
"I heard it's a nice place." Eugene chirps.  
"That's not the point, Eugene." Phoebe mumbles.  
We were all silent. Pensive. I'm just thinking about Helga, as I'd just seen her. With her hair down, in that pink   
dress. Funny, I didn't know she could be so pretty.  
Well...I mean, she's pretty, but it's not like she's...um, she just looks...uh...interesting?...  
Yeah, that's what I mean. She looks interesting.  
The front door opens, and everyone looks to see who's invaded this moment of thought.  
Grandpa.  
"Jeez, Shortman." He begins, turning up the collar of his jacket to keep out the frigid air,   
"Don't you think you're friends should be gettin' home? It's colder then the winter of thirty-six out here."  
We all sigh, slowly getting up from the steps of my stoop.  
"So everyone, I EXPECT you to watch the news from your common homes in EXACTLY A HALF HOUR!"  
Rhonda, bossy as ever. But I don't think she needs to worry. Something tells me that the only way you'd keep any one   
of us from the news in half an hour would be to drag us away with heavy machinery.  
I say my goodbyes to everyone quickly as they rush to their houses, with no intentions of wasting time. Gerald offers to  
walk Phoebe home, and she accepts tiredly.  
And me? I dash inside and park myself in front of the Television. Oskar, Ernie and Mr. Hyunh are sitting on the couch,  
"We heard the report, Arnold." Ernie says, a strange smile taking over his face.  
"This girl. She cares for you. Very much!" Mr. Hyunh says enthusiasticly.  
I freeze. Yes. She does, doesn't she? Helga G. Pataki cares about me.   
I don't think I've quite gotten used to it. It hasn't really sunk in yet.   
"Yeah..." I say, slowly, looking at the television screen the held a caption of her quietly,   
"...She does."   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I step into Buckingham Palace, hands shaking. But my face remained unchangingly fearless. Cordie turns to the  
two of us with a bored look of unimpressed ease at the splendor around her,  
"We'll have to be introduced to the Queen and King now," she tells her, her proper English seeming to get better and   
better with each step she takes, "It's quite an outdated tradition, but they still pratise it."  
My hand goes up to my thick mass of hair, hoping beyond hope that it hadn't been ruined somhow from the beauty salon   
to here, trying to feel if any of my curls were out of the place the hair stylist, Vickie, had put them in.   
I felt a hand take hold of mine. I glance down. Row's, of course. I look up to her, my face conveying the nervousness I felt.  
She smiles warmly down at me, "You can't back down now, Suge. Remember, you got a mission."  
I nod at her, "I know."  
Three butlers enter, one taking our 'Wraps'. Pathedic excuse for a scarf, if you ask me. And it doesn't even work, you freeze   
with it! Cordie told me wraps are mainly for show, but I don't know what kind of show I would've put on if I had  
become an icicle out there. Yeah, very glamouress, The Christmas Girl Ice Cube.  
A smile unconsiously appears on my face as the other two butlers leads us... well, I guess to the throne room. No one  
bothered to inform me about how this Royalty deal works. Oh God, do they expect me to bow?! Why didn't I ask Cordie  
any of this when I had the chance?! Do I have to kiss a ring or curtsy or call someone 'My Leige'?!  
I tilt my head so I can look past Row at Cordie, "Cordie, what am I suppose to do when I--?"  
"Shh." she cuts in quietly, motioning her head just in front of us. I look ahead of us.   
A room. Actually, more of a dance hall.  
Decorated to the Hilt with festive Christmas things. Wreaths of holly, mistletoe as far as the eye can see. The whole   
place smells of pine. Four evergreens stand, tall and proud, in each corner of the room, each blanketed with cotteny,   
fake snow. The floors are white marble. A huge staircase decends from the center of the room, aristocratic guests gliding   
down it in small groups. Speaking of small groups, congregation's of people clutter everywhere. Some of them laughing, and  
some of them causing laughter, drinking from crystal goblats as if they did this kind of thing everyday. A few of them,   
however, sulk pretentiously in the corner, their noses srunching distastfully at some of the people who pass them as they  
nibble at their tiny appitizers, right before drawing away from the morsel of food in digust of its taste.  
Snobs.  
Rhonda would fit right in.  
Nobody here is my age, though. And as were lead across the marble floor, some of the Stuck-ups shoot me pointed   
glances.One man steps up to us, setting his drink down at a table. his twenty-something looks aged by his   
expression of concieted contempt,  
"Dame Cordelia." He patronizes, matching our stride as we follow the butlers, "How nice to see you. It's good to  
see you managed to crawl out of your pathedicly poor excuse for a life long enough to join us...even though,  
you didn't bother to change your clothes, as always." he smirks rudly.  
My blood boils suddenly. What's this throw pillow doing, talking to Cordie like that?! I'm sure he wouldn't have that much   
to say if I gave him a talking to with Old Betsy! He looks pretty scrawny, I could have him down in four seconds flat.  
"And what's this?" He says in his oily accent, "You've even brought some white-trash Americans along for the ride.  
Cordelia dear, were you hoping to get some press? Well, allow me to inform you--" he stops for a moment, looking  
at Row and I in turn and curling his lip in distaste, "--this is neither a trailer park or a daycare center."  
Row narrows her eyes at him. Griting her teeth, she snarls, "You're right, it isn't, no wonder you don't fit in."  
Why isn't Cordie saying anything? Why is she just standing there, her body terse and her head held high? Why is  
she letting this moron say this to her? Who IS this idiot?!  
Cordie stops walking, and so did the rest of us. The butlers, looking at eachother quickly, scurry off somewhere.  
Cordie breathes in deeply, trying to keep calm, "Giles, go back to wherever you were and leave us be, we've done  
nothing to you, and you have no right to speak abut Rowenna and Noël like that."  
Giles ran a hand through his well-kept dirt-brown hair, laughing. A laugh that was so cocky and full of hate that I  
clenched my hands into fists, letting my muscles tense, waiting to jump on him so I can pound him a new face.  
"Ah yes--Noël, I've heard of that little nothing." he sneers in my direction, walking from Cordie to me and bending down  
so he was right in my face. His breath smells rancid, and he must be wearing turpentine for cologne.   
"Leave her alone!" Row hisses,trying to push him away, "Get away from her!" Giles just laughs silently, overpowering her.   
"So you don't have a name, hm? Maybe your parents never gave you one, if you even have parents. Hell, I'd try and   
disown you if you were mine, gallavanting all over the earth like some vagabond tramp." He chuckles darkly, "That  
must be why you're with Cordelia. Do you know how she accquired her title? For being a serving maid who just  
happened to be in the right place at the right time. And now she's helping you look for somebodies parents. Somebody  
who's probably just as worthless as she is."  
My face burns and my nails dig into my palm. His yellow teeth form a provoking smile that just BEGGING me to smack  
off his face. The ego in his muddy eyes cut into mine, daring me to hate him more then I already do.   
That. Is. It.  
Before my fury has any time to die down, I haul back and hook him in the jaw as hard as I can. One blow, my knuckles   
digging into his fleshy cheek. He hits the ground in shock, the room's attention swung to me. A thousand pairs of eyes   
peer at me in demand for an explination. Giles props himself up on one arm, his free hand patting his jaw gingerly.  
My breath is heavy, and I glare down at him, "Don't EVER say ANYTHING about us again! What's your problem,  
anyways, ya' fruitbasket?! You don't have anything better to do then to call me and my friends a bunch of Tramps?!"  
Cordie grabs hold of my shoulders as the rest of the room gasps, now watching Giles, silently shaming him for insulting  
an elder lady, a young woman and a little girl.  
"Noël, don't!" Cordie warns, but it sounds more like background static when compared to the rage pounding in my ears.  
I free myself from Corie's grasp as Giles looks around the room imploringly, "She...she hit me!" he screams in a girlish panic.   
"Hit you?!" I seethe, "You're lucky I don't beat your head in! Get this through your pea-brain, GILES, there's no way I'll  
EVER stand by and let you call me a worthless gallavanting vagabon...whatever you said! And I DO have parents, and  
they would never disown me! And Cordie's a Dame because she deserves to be,   
and don't you forget it, Bucko!" I take another deep breath.  
"We agree completly."  
The whole room, including me, turns around to see the cause of the rich--Silightly high-pitched voice that had sided with   
me so fiercly. There stood an older woman, dressed in a forest green gown with white trimmings. She holds herself with   
a regal air, even though her short, wavey, brown-auburn hair-- that holds within a few light streaks of grey-- supports no   
crown. And from every picture I've seen, she looks like the Queen. Distastfully, her green eyes stare down her long,   
straight nose at Giles, floundering on the ground.  
"Your Highness!" he gasps, suddenly sounding very innocent. Oh no, she can't be the Queen. This CAN'T be the person  
I need to meet, standing here, after listening to me rant to this jerk.  
"...Thank goodness your here, Your Highness!" Giles continues, "I was just about to have Codelia's party arrested for  
disturbing the safty of this gathering." he snaps his fingers to call over the butlars. Arrested?! No! I won't let him!  
The Queen put up her hand, as pale as the rest of her skin, "They'll be no need for that, Giles Montfonte.   
Your party is the one who will be leaving."  
Giles eyes go as wide as pie plates, as the Queen approaches me. Oh no, what is she going to say to me?! What do I do?!  
In a frenzy, I bow, and the queen chuckles good-naturedly,  
"Stand up straight, child, no one's bowed that low without there being a ceromony in years." she whispers to me.  
I bolt upright quickly, a thin layer of sweat breaking over me.  
she nods her head to me quickly and motions for me to stand beside her, which I do in an instant. Then, turning a cold  
expression onto Giles Montfonte, she begins to speak, and everyone in the room is silent, giving her the uttmost respect,  
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Duke Montfonte," oh, so this guy's a Duke, huh? "We realize that your family and   
Dame Wells are not on the best of terms, but your father would have conducted himself better, may God rest his soul."  
A few murmers of agreement from the crowd.  
" You behavior here has been inexcusable, insulting a child of only..." she looks at me, "Eleven years old?" she questions.  
"uh...Ten, Your Majesty" I correct, a little shakily.  
She nods, "...a child of only ten years old. She was properly justified in her actions."  
Yes! You preach it, Queenie!  
"The gaurds will escort you and your guests out."  
and with that, two butlers lead Giles, who was turning purple by now, and two young, heavily-made-up ladies out of the  
room. Giles gives me one final look, which I answer with a tight-lipped, scornful grin,  
"Catch ya' in the funny paper's, Duke." I whisper, almost silently, to myself. And then, he was gone for good.  
The Queen smiles triumphiently and turns her attention to her guests,   
"We apoligize. Please, do not let Duke Montfonte end the celebration."  
Everyone smiles and a murmer of "Yes, your Highness." Ripples through the crowd before everyone goes back to what   
they had been doing before I knocked Montfonte's lights out. I quickly go into a state of curiosity. Why does she keep on  
saying we...oh, yeah! Of course, the queen's supposed to speak for the country whenever she talks. 'The Royal We', I   
think they call it. I remember Phoebe explaining it to the class once, for one of her extra-credit assignments.  
The Queen smiles down at me, and motions for Row and Cordie, who had been staying near me, but off to the sidelines,  
to clome closer. She waits for them to come to us, greeting them both in turn before she begins walking, putting her   
hand on my shoulder and guiding me along with her, Cordie walking on the Queens side, and Row on mine.. After a   
while, she laughs a little,  
"Do you know, Sulmon called to tell us about you the moment you left his house." she says,  
I look up at her astonishedly, "Really?" I say,  
"Yes," she answers, "It was the first time we have heard from him in quite a while."   
I look around the room, not quite sure how to answer to that. People in the room stare at us as we pass, coveting the chance  
to walk beside the Queen. I square my shoulders proudly, tilting my head up a little.  
"He didn't describe you as quite so--" she searches for a word, "--violent, however."  
I bite my lip in shame.  
"Yeah, well, he was asking for it." I blame.  
"You couldn't be more correct." she says, "Duke Montfonte is deserving of whatever shame comes to him from this   
incident."  
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad she felt that way.  
The Queen swiftly changes the subject, turning to Cordie,   
"Tell me, Cordelia, do you know whom Noël searches for?" she asks.  
Cordie looks at me, arms crossed. I let my eyes wander around the room, averting her gaze. Cordie had asked me--more   
then a few times--this past week, the names of Arnolds (or, 'The Boys' as she knows him) parents. But I had simply refused.  
...'At least give me the name of the boy, then.' I remember her saying, 'Gimme the boy's name an' I'll bother ya no longer.'  
And every time she asked me, I'd gone through the same drill. A quick sigh first, then I'd say:  
'I'll tell everything to Queen Elizabeth. And I'll only tell everything when she's right in front of me. Guess you've just gotta  
be patient, Cordie.'  
But now here we were, and Cordie had no answer. She chews the inside of her cheeks slowly,  
"No, Your Highness, I can't say that I do." she finally confesses.  
The Queen gives her a smile of satisfaction, "Do not be ashamed, Cordelia." she tells her, "We do not know, either."  
I look at the Queen in disbelief, "You mean Sulmon didn't tell you?"  
She shook her head, "He told us only that we would be pleased when you told us."  
Pleased? Just exactly how well did she know Arnold's Parents?  
"Oh," I say, at a loss for words, "Well, you see...Your Majesty, I'm searching for the parents of a boy I know."  
"So We have heard." the Queen comments.  
Row puts her hand on my shoulder, persisting me to continue, "Go on, Suge." she urges, "Say their names."  
"There names are--" I stop abruptly, my mind suddenly filling with doubts that I had never thought of before now.   
What if the Queen didn't know anything, either? What if this whole journey  
was for nothing? What if I couldn't find Arnold's parents? How can I face him, knowing I failed him again?  
No, don't think about that, Helga. Just be sure you tried.   
Yes, I need to be sure. I need to make sure I've done everything I can to find them. I take a deep breath, swallowing my fear,  
"Their names are...Andrew and Gwen." I say, ending with an exhausted sigh.  
The Queen blinks at me for a moment, her mouth opening silently. Cordie and Row look from me to her, and the Queen  
takes a step back from me. My feet shift nervously, as my stomach sinks down somewhere near my ankles.  
Queen Elizabeth brings her hand to her mouth, cupping them over her thin, lipsticked lips, a look of amazment filling her features.  
"Someone..." she whispers, her aged eyes glittering unexpectedly, "Someone is looking for Andrew and Gwendolyn?...  
Our Andrew and Gwendolyn?"  
Gwendolyn? Arnolds mother's full first name is Gwendolyn? I think back to the only picture I've seen of her, the one  
Sulmon gave me, after she had just had Arnold. Gwendolyn. It's a pretty name. It suits her.  
The Queen come towards me, quickly pulling into a rib-cracking, bone-crushing hug. My body tenses, freezing up. I'm  
not very used to getting hugs, forget about getting hugged by royalty in the middle of a huge party! So the hug goes on,  
my arms stiffly at my sides, and all eyes in the room are once again on me. I look at Row and Cordie and nearly burst from supressing my laugh. I never though I'd find any use for the word 'flabbergasted', but that's exactly the expression on thier   
faces! Without warning, while I'm biting down on my toungue to keep my laugh in check and wondering how exactly you  
go about breaking off a hug with the Queen of England, she lets go of me, and whispers in my ear,  
"We have been waiting a long time for someone to come to us, looking for those two."  
I pull myself away from her gently, looking at the Blue-Blooded Queen with awe,  
"They were really two of your friends, Your Majesty?" I question. Even though it's what I've been told, I still hardly believe it.  
She chuckles a little, touching my face with white-gloved hands,   
"They were in our heart, always," she confides to me and then, as an afterthought, adds quietly, so only I   
can hear, says, "As was their son, Arnold."  
I give her a wide smile.   
Of course. If Sulmon knew about Arnold, then natuarally, so would the Queen.  
The moment was inturpted then, by an elderly womans voice calling me happily from behind the Queen,  
"So this is the one called Noël!"  
I tilt my head so I can see the woman. She is old. I mean Old! Her face is gentel, but it reminds me of crepe paper,  
white and wrinkled. Her hair is snow-coloured, and styled something like the Queen. She's short and plump,  
wearing a bright blue dress. She supports her body with a cane.  
"Your Highness!" Cordie says quickly, giving a hurried bow. Row does the same, while I stand in great confusion.  
So there are two Queens now? Where'd the other 'Highness' come from?!  
"Mother!" The younger Queen beside me exclaims, "What are you doing? You remember the doctor said that you  
musn't be up and about to much!"  
The elder Queen joins us, with the help of two butlars by her side, and waves the first Queen off,  
"Elizabeth! I'm perfectly capable of saying Hello to this young lady." she says, pointing to me.  
Swiftly, she outstreaches her arm in my direction, "Elizabeth the First, my dear girl." she introduces, "The Queen Mother."  
Queen mother? You mean the Queen is this womans daughter? No wonder she's so old! But I guess being the Queen's   
Mother is a pretty cushy job to sit around and wait to have. For one thing, she doesn't seem to have to refer to herself   
as 'we'! I look up into the ancient slits of blue that were her eyes, that still shone with a youthful light.  
I take her hand and shake it heartily, "Noël," I tell her, "But some people prefer calling me 'Christmas Girl'."  
The Queen Mother errupts with dignified laughter. My eyes sweep the room once again, and I can't believe it. Even after  
all this time, people are STILL staring at us. Can't they give it a rest?  
Elizabeth the First takes a few deep breaths, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Noël." she says after a while, and then   
shakes hands in turn with Row and Cordie.  
The Queen (who I'm guessing is Elizabeth the Second) suddenly remembered what I had just told her and caught the  
attention of her Mother,  
"Mother, do you know the two this little girl searches for?" she asks, already anticipating the answer.  
The Queen Mother shakes her head seriously, and smiling, the Queen whispers the names of Arnold's parents into her ear.  
As soon as she heard, the Queen Mother's eyes widen with gleeful astoundment. A weary smile makes its way to her  
mouth, and she shakes her head again, almost in an amused sadness. My hear tilts forward in alarm. What could   
possibly make this lady sad?  
"To think--" she begins, "That I'd have to wait until I was a Hundred years old, for a girl that's young enough to be my  
Great-Grandaughter to actually look for those two amazing people."  
I gawk at her in bewilderment.   
ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD?!  
Wow, Aishwara's a blanket-hugging baby compared to her!  
Both Royals laugh at the expression on my face, and Row puts her arm around me,  
"Close your mouth, Suge, you're collecting flies!"  
My mouth snaps shut, and I smirk at her,  
"Very funny, Row." I comment, smothering the urge to stick out my toungue.  
She smiles with pride, and Cordie rolls her eyes at the both of us.  
"Oh, yes! He will have to be there when we tell her!" the Queen Mother says, Agreeing to something her daughter had just   
told her. She takes my hand and begins leading me across the floor, her blue dress brushing against my pink one as we walk,  
"Come, there's someone here you must meet! He'll tell you everything you need to know!"  
I gasp with delight. Everything?! You mean they know someone who can tell me exactly where I need to go to find Arnold's  
Parents?! Where is he?! I've been waiting a long time to speak to this guy...whoever he is.  
Queen Elizabeth the Second, Row and Cordie trail behind us when we at last reach a man, standing by himself, propped  
up against a corner wall. He's dressed in a crisp white suit, the only other colour on him being his black tie and shoes.  
His hair is black, too. Messy. He has a thick black moustach and goatee. His skin is darker then many of the people in  
the room, making him look decidedly out of place. He swirls his amber drink around in his heavy crystal glass.  
His dark eyes lift to us, looking at the Queen mother first, then to me.   
"Your Majesty." he say respectfully, bowing his head a little. His accent is Spanish, or Mexican. I wish I knew how to  
distinguish accents better.  
The Queen Mother smiles patiently at him, her eyes twinkling from the information she held. She lowers her voice and says,  
"Noël, I would like to introduce an old friend of Andrew and Gwendolyn's, Eduardo."  
She then turns to Eduardo, with her sparkling eyes and her all-knowing smile that reminded my so much of Sulmon's,  
"And Eduardo," she says, "I would like you to meet your Angel of Redemption."  
  
~*~ End of Chapter Three~*~  
  
Well La ti da...I'm finally done! Time to upload this. Now, I KNOW I've made promises like this before, but this time,  
I really mean it. I WILL update some time again this week. Why? Because it's March Break! Yay, I have free time!  
By the way, I'm not sure if I got every detail of Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II right. I don't think my description of   
Buckingham Palace was to great, either. Sorry, I didn't have that much information to work with, so I could only   
try. Anyways, time to get cracking on Chapter four!  
So, until soon, wishin' you....  
Luv  
Life  
Luck  
n' Lafta'  
~*~CD~*~ 


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